Ἀνάγκη – Necessity beyond sway
by Chyntuck
Summary: An artist finds herself bounced around by the vagaries of Galactic history. Starts shortly before the Battle of Yavin and is set in the pre-Disney EU. Features Thrawn, OCs and a host of minor characters. Rated T but may evolve to M, reader discretion advised. I don't own Star Wars, usual disclaimers apply. Constructive criticism is most welcome. Updates on Mondays and Thursdays.
1. Chapter 1

**Part I: ****Χάρις ****(**_**Grace**_**)**

**Chapter 1: The modified Demahl**

The dimly lit corridor of the Imperial Palace seemed deserted as she stepped out of the meeting hall and went to the pile of materials stacked against the wall, humming to herself along the way. She added the two empty buckets she was carrying to the stack on the left, tucked the lids behind the boxes and turned to the last bucket that was full. She took a deep breath and went to heave it off the floor to carry it into the room.

"Allow me." A cool, cultured voice behind her caused her to jump in fright. A blue hand protruding from the olive-green sleeve of an Imperial Navy officer's uniform grabbed the handle and lifted the bucket with ease.

She followed the blue-skinned man back into the meeting hall. His glowing red eyes swept the room once and came to rest on the tarpaulin covering the floor and the tools laid out at the foot of the wall panel she was working on to the left of the balcony. Without a word, he carried the bucket to that corner and set it down as casually as if it were empty.

"Thank you," she said. She presented him with a basket of wipes. He took a towel silently while she also cleaned her hands as best she could and gave a cursory wipe at her mud-smeared face. He was standing in front of her in the straight-backed posture of a military man as his red eyes wandered around the room, going from one panel to another and lingering on the unfinished one before returning to her. He arched a single blue-black eyebrow in question.

"You seem... perplexed." She appeared to be a little intimidated but there was a hint of amusement in her tone.

A small twitch flickered at the corner of his mouth. "I came here for a meeting with High Command," he replied in a deep, even voice. "I was expecting a roomful of stiff senior officers. I will admit that to find instead a woman in Berchestian artisan trousers running around barefoot and carrying buckets of Gungan swamp clay is... intriguing." His eyes glittered with their odd inner light. "Especially when the woman in question is obviously neither Berchestian nor Gungan" – he took in the room once more – "and she is no mere artisan either."

Her face broke into a warm smile and she held out her hand for him to shake. "You're right on all three counts. I'm Ayesha Eskari, I'm the Palace's... let's say, resident artist until the end of this year."

He executed a perfect military bow as he took her proffered hand. "Senior Captain Thrawn, at your service." His gaze flitted to the panel briefly. "Are you related to the poet Namajib Eskari?"

She eyed him curiously, apparently surprised that he had made the connection. "He was my father."

The red eyes stared at her for a moment. "Interesting." He gestured towards the wall panels. "May I have a look?"

"Of course. Please don't touch that one," – she pointed at the panel to the right of the double doors – "the clay isn't dry yet."

Thrawn gave her a curt nod and absorbed himself in a careful examination of the panel mirroring hers across the transparisteel doors leading to the balcony. With a slight shrug, she returned to the bucket he had carried, removing the lid before flipping it over. The clay slipped out of the plastoid and landed on the tarpaulin with a soft thump. She selected a potter's wire from her tools and sliced off a chunk of clay that she added to the basin of water in front of her. Kneeling by the basin, she set about flaking the clay in the water, dissolving it until the mix acquired the creamy texture of liquid mud.

Humming to herself, she turned to a box and extracted a cupful of white dust, which she poured into the basin. She swept her hand across the liquid a few times, careful not to spill any onto the floor. She pulled yet another measuring cup from another box, adding this time a shiny, granular substance to the mix. With a satisfied smile, she went to pick her potter's wire again when Thrawn's voice broke into her thoughts.

"Is that the modified Demahl technique you are using?"

Her eyes shot up and she looked at him with renewed curiosity. "I think it is my turn to say that you seem perplexed, Miss Eskari," he said. His lips were definitely twitching into a smile now.

"Impressed, really," she replied earnestly. "Most people wouldn't know a Demahl, modified or not, if you gift-wrapped it and served it to them on a platter."

There was a twinkle in his eyes. "Perhaps I am not most people."

"Apparently not. Are you an artist yourself?"

"I am a Captain in the Imperial Navy."

"I didn't know that art and the Navy are incompatible," she countered. "After all, I am redecorating this room for High Command." The twinkle in his eyes was still there, but his expression remained cool and calculating. "Well, to answer your question," she continued once it became clear he wouldn't say more, "I modified the modified Demahl." There was that questioning blue-black eyebrow again. "I decided to add pseudolime to the mix. I find it makes the clay adhere better." She sliced off another chunk of clay and lowered it in the basin. He was observing her with great interest. "So you could say that this is the recently invented, top secret and otherwise perfectly obscure Eskari technique," she added with a grin.

He chuckled softly. "Indeed. I will make sure I look it up in art books in a few years from now."

She laughed and set back to work. "Oh, I doubt you'll ever find it anywhere. Nobody bothers with Gungan mud anymore."

There was a long silence during which he went back to his examination of the lightning pattern she had created on the wall panels that were dry. When he turned again to look at her, the mud in the basin had become thick and sticky. The muscles in her shoulders and arms were tensing as she kneaded the mix, and sweat was beading on her forehead.

"Could you not use a duracrete mixer?" he asked.

She shrugged without looking up. "Machines are for lazy people."

Amusement seeped into his voice. "I have no doubt that you are a very hard-working person, Miss Eskari, but would you not obtain a smoother, more consistent texture if you were to use one or another of the oh-so-reprehensible mechanical contraptions available to sculptors for this?"

She shrugged again and wiped a drop of sweat from her cheek with the back of her hand, smearing a little more mud on her face. "Smoothness and consistency of texture... they don't make a work of art special. These new alloys that artists like to use, the perfect mix, calculated with absolute precision by the foundries down to the last molecule... yes, they're smooth, and consistent, and malleable, and some would argue beautiful. But I find they just produce soulless works." She paused to run her forearm across her brow and push out of her face the short, beaded braids that were hanging in front of her eyes. "What makes a sculpture worth looking at is in the imperfections, in all the little signs that the sculptor tried – and failed – in his or her struggle with matter. In his or her attempt to take still matter and make it express life." She paused again and stared at the contents of her basin. "To have a machine shape your material for you... there's just no challenge in that," she added with a sigh. She suddenly looked up at Thrawn, as if remembering that she was talking to him. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling and I probably don't make much sense."

He was fixing her with his glowing red eyes. "On the contrary, Miss Eskari, you are surprisingly eloquent." He took one more look at the room. "Now as much as I would like to continue this conversation rather than engage in discussions on war and strategy, I am afraid that I must go and find out where the High Command meeting is being held before I am late."

She smiled again. "It's in the Naboo room. One floor up, across the hall. All the meetings have been moved there until I'm done here, which should be another five to six weeks."

"Thank you." He took a step towards the door. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Eskari."

"The pleasure was all mine, Captain." She stood up and wiped mud off her fingers before gesturing towards the now-empty bucket of clay. "And thank you for your help."

"You are most welcome, Miss Eskari. With your permission, I will visit you again in the coming weeks, to watch our meeting room transform under your care." And with another military bow, he turned on his heel and left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The fellowship**

Ayesha was uncomfortably perched on the top of a ladder, struggling to insert her carving tool behind one of the lightning-shaped clay lines to scrap away an unnecessary blob on the otherwise smooth surface of the panel. She interrupted the song she was humming to let out a satisfied grunt when she finally succeeded and dug into her apron pocket for the fine-grained sanding sponge.

"I am afraid you dropped something, Miss Eskari," Thrawn's voice said somewhere below her. She twisted on her perch just enough to see a blue hand holding up the sponge.

She beamed at him. "And the Imperial Navy comes to the rescue." She slid down the ladder to stand in front of him. "Thank you."

His eyes were sweeping the room, taking in the panel that she had already finished carving to the right of the balcony, the three that were still in a raw, unfinished state and the one she had just been working on, on the back wall. He finally returned to her and pointed at the various styluses hanging from her apron. "This is quite a collection you have. Schenor, I suppose?"

If she was surprised, this time she didn't show it. "Mostly, yes. But this one is my favourite" – she held out the tool she was still holding – "and it's from Bimmisaari."

He cocked an eyebrow. "How interesting. I did not know that the Bimms produce any clay works."

"They don't. This is normally used for wood, but it turned out it suits my purpose here well enough."

He turned the small stylus in his hand before giving it back to her. "You do not like to do things the, shall we say, traditional way."

She laughed and offered him a hand wipe. "One of my professors in the Academy used to tell me exactly the same thing." She clipped the stylus back in its place on the apron and took a towel for herself.

He stared at her for a moment. "I take it that the absence of a mechanical sander has to do with the no-laziness rule?"

"There's that," she admitted. "Also that those blasted things generate even more dust, if you can imagine." She was indeed covered in dust from head to toe, her whole being an indefinable colour of ghostly grey matching the clay panels on the walls. She dropped the hand wipe in the wastebasket and took another one to clean her face.

His lips twitched as she cautiously removed the speckles of dust from her eyelashes. "It must be quite something."

"You have no idea," she said with a sigh.

His gaze returned to the panel she'd finished carving. "May I?" And without further ado, he absorbed himself in its examination while she worked her way through another three towels, managing only to smudge the caked dust on her face and neck.

"It is really quite intriguing that there should be no Corellian influence in your style whatsoever," he finally said. He was standing straight-backed with his hands clasped behind him, his eyes still fixed on the panel.

She frowned. "Why should there be anything Corellian about my style?"

He turned around to face her. "Is Namajib Eskari not commonly referred to as the Corellian poet?"

"Oh, that." She gave a small shrug. "Well, yes, you're right of course, although it isn't entirely accurate." The eyebrow crawled up on his forehead. "My father's family hailed from Corellia, but he left the planet as a young man and as far as I know, he never went back. I've never been there myself, actually."

"Really?" Curiosity crept into his otherwise expressionless features. "So where did you spend your younger years?"

She shrugged again and looked away. "That's a rather long story, but to make it short, the place I call home now is Kashyyyk."

"Kashyyyk?" This time there was no mistaking the surprise in his voice.

"Yes. I was adopted there after my parents passed away when I was a child."

"I see," he said in a tone that clearly showed he didn't. "I was not aware that there are any humans living on Kashyyyk," he added tentatively.

"It's unusual," she countered. "But it's not unheard of either." Her eyes moved back from the sleeve of his uniform to his blue-skinned face and she somehow seemed to relax. "Besides, I'm only part human, so that may be your explanation."

His obvious next question – that she looked perfectly human to him – was interrupted by a prissy voice. "Mistress Ayesha?" A silver protocol droid pushing a hovertray was standing by the door.

"Thanks, Ceetoo! Could you please put that on the balcony?" She stifled a giggle as the droid waddled through the room, muttering about dust and servomotors and how he would need an oil bath, and then turned back to Thrawn. "Would you like to share my lunch, Captain? It's not much, just sandwiches, but they're usually quite nice."

He took a glance at his chronometer. "That would be with great pleasure, Miss Eskari, but I would not want to deprive you of your meal."

"That you won't," she said with a hearty laugh. "The kitchen people seem to believe they're feeding a hungry rancor." She nodded towards the transparisteel doors. "Just help yourself to a cup of something. I need to clean myself up some more before I'm fit for any civilized activity." And she bounced off towards the small service room where a portable 'fresher station had been set up for her.

She came out again a few minutes later and found Thrawn lounging in one of the balcony chairs, his long legs stretched out in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other and a cup of strong, black caf in his hand. She unwrapped the massive plate of sandwiches and set it on the table next to him, poured a mug for herself and stood against the balcony railing. He looked at her carefully. She had removed her apron and replaced her dirty long-sleeved shirt with a plain white sleeveless one. There was still dust on her forearms, trousers and bare feet, but her face and neck were now clean, revealing a woman with olive skin and sparkling black eyes underlined by a yellow Qukkuuf mark on her left cheekbone. She was of average height and had generous curves, with a little bump of tummy fat that stretched the waistband of her trousers, yet she still had about her the slenderness of adolescence that sometimes accompanies women until their mid- to late twenties. Her neck and arms were lithe and gracile and her hands and feet were small and delicate like those of a child. While she was not a beauty by human standards – her nose was a little too big, her mouth a little too wide – there was something powerfully attractive about her.

"Would you like to sit down?" he asked after a moment.

She chuckled. "I just spent my morning sitting sideways on the top of a ladder. I need to stretch my legs a bit." She leaned against the railing, basking in the sunlight that filtered through the clouds. He was still staring at her silently with his glowing red eyes. "What?" she said finally. "Did I forget some dirt somewhere on my face?"

His lips twitched. "Not at all. I am simply enjoying the pleasure of making your acquaintance in person, so to speak."

She laughed again. "Between the mud last week and the dust this week, it takes the glamour out if the job, doesn't it?"

His eyes twinkled. "You could say that."

She reached for a sandwich from the table and leaned back against the railing. "So," she said, "tell me how it happens that you know so much about sculpture."

"Oh, there is not much to say. Military training on my homeworld includes a strong component about the species and cultures of neighbouring systems. We study their art as a matter of course. When I came to this part of the Galaxy, I took the time to learn about the art of the various species here."

"And your homeworld is...?"

"A planet called Csilla," he replied curtly. "In what you would know as the Unknown Regions."

"Your training can't possibly go into the level of detail that you seem to know about techniques and tools," she said when it became clear that he wouldn't elaborate. "Unless your military academies churn out more art historians than soldiers."

His lips twitched again. "Of course not. It is something of a personal hobby for me to learn about these things. Knowing the techniques and the tools enables me to understand the art better."

"And what do you gain from that?"

"A better understanding of the artist and his or her species, and, therefore, a better understanding of their needs and psychological blind spots."

She made a face, half frown, half curiosity. "So what does my work tell you about me?"

He glanced at the room behind him before returning his gaze to her. "Not much, to be honest with you. Which is what makes it so intriguing. Other than the obvious fact that it exudes a powerful sense of confinement, of limitation." He paused to look at her for a moment. "May I ask you a question?"

She smiled. "Again?"

His face went expressionless. "I apologize," he said a little stiffly. "I do not mean to pry."

"Not at all," she protested. "It's just that you've probably already asked me more questions than the rest of the Imperial Palace put together. People here don't seem too interested in what I do." He remained silent. "Please, go ahead and ask. I'll be happy to answer you – if I know the answer, that is."

His face remained unreadable but the tension in his body eased a little. "My first visit here told me that you are obviously a very talented sculptress," he said, choosing his words with great care. "I assumed that you are a well-established artist to be commissioned for redecorating rooms of the Imperial Palace. I was therefore rather surprised when a HoloNet search for more of your work came up empty."

She smiled. "That's rather easy to explain. I'm not a well-established artist at all. I'm the current Emperor Palpatine Fellow for the Arts." He arched an eyebrow in question. "It's a three-year fellowship granted to a graduate of the Imperial Academy of Fine Arts, to enable young artists to develop their style. I'd just graduated when they called for applications, and one of my professors put down my name for it. I thought of it as a great honour at the time, so I didn't even think to decline."

"Are you implying that you do not think of it as an honour anymore?" he asked, somewhat sternly.

She blushed at little and bit her lip. "Of course it's an honour. But now I realize that it comes at a price." He remained silent again, but his unwavering gaze was clearly asking her to say more. "The fellowship allows for virtually unlimited resources," she said cautiously. "Being here, I had access to historical sources and opportunities for travel that I never even dreamt of, and I got to experiment with all sorts of new materials and tools." She fiddled with her cup. "But the condition is that I can produce works only for the Palace, at the request of the Emperor or those he selects among his courtiers or senior officers. I'm very... limited in what I'm allowed to do." She gestured towards the room. "So your reading on my work was spot-on," she added with a small smile.

His expression softened. "I can see why you would find that frustrating. Which other rooms of the Palace did you decorate? I have been off-world for a long time and I would very much like to visit them."

She sighed. "None, actually. This is the first time the Emperor asked me to do something for the Palace. For the first two years of my fellowship he just gave me on loan to his advisors and Grand Admirals, and all they were interested in was having their portrait made." There was a hint of distaste in her words.

The red eyes seemed to bore into her head. "You seem not to like those people very much."

She sighed again. "You don't miss anything, do you?" she asked. He simply sat there and waited for her answer. She sank into the chair next to him and took another sandwich. "No, truth be told, it was not always pleasant. Powerful people in this Palace think of me as some sort of servant. It leads sometimes to... awkward situations." The red eyes glittered ominously. "But it's fine," she spluttered before he could place a word. "It's just annoying, and I can take care of myself. I've become pretty good at dodging the likes of certain Grand Admirals," she added in a clumsy attempt at humour. Thrawn didn't smile. "Really, it's nothing, I shouldn't even have mentioned it. I just find it annoying and... I guess, disappointing, that some senior Navy officers can be so... arrogant and dismissive."

There was a silence. Thrawn's voice was tight when he next spoke. "I truly hope that is not the impression I am giving you."

She burst out laughing. "Not at all. You looked at my work before you even looked at me. That earned you a galaxy of brownie points in my book. Besides," she added with a grin, "you know what a modified Demahl is. You can't be all bad."

He gave her for the first time a smile that lit up his whole face before reverting to his cool, calculating expression. "I am sorry to hear that you are not enjoying your time in the Palace."

She waved her hand. "It's okay. I have just under a year to go and I won't be spending much of it here anyway. I have to start working on my final exhibition after I'm done with this room. But your two visits made my day, you know. You're only the second person since I came here who expresses any interest in my work at all."

"Who was the first?"

"As surprising as it may seem, it was Lord Vader." She was clearly not disappointed with the baffled look that flickered across his face.

"Lord Vader?" he repeated. "You were asked to make his portrait?"

"No, unfortunately," she said with undisguised longing in her voice. "He just happened to pass in this corridor on my second day here and he heard me sing, so he walked in." She gave a slightly embarrassed shrug. "I like to sing when I work and on that day I guess I was louder than usual because I really thought I was alone in this part of the Palace."

Thrawn had regained his composure, but there was no mistaking the curiosity in his eyes. "And...?"

"And, nothing. He came in so I went to get off my ladder, but he told me to carry on. What was a bit weird was that he asked me to finish the song. So I did and I just kept working on the panel, and then he told me a few things about Gungan clay and left. He's quite knowledgeable about Gungan culture. That's pretty much it, really."

"Out of curiosity, what were you singing?"

"_Atitcha apaksha_. It's a Jawa lullaby from Tatooine." She hummed the first stanza.

Thrawn gazed at the cityscape for a moment. "Very interesting," he muttered to himself. He looked at her again. "And you would like to make his portrait?"

"Oh, yes, very much so," she said eagerly. "The way he moves, that odd combination of grace and clumsiness in his step... that's something I'd very much like to try and capture in a sculpture. I really wonder what he was like before... well, you know, before the armour. He must have been quite a graceful man. And," she added wistfully, "I'd give a lot to be allowed to watch him wield his lightsaber for five minutes." He stared at her in utter disbelief. "You think I'm crazy."

The red eyes twinkled. "I would not go quite that far, but you do have a rather unique way of looking at things. The mental image of Lord Vader with lightsaber in hand is more than enough to send most people cowering under their beds."

She gave him a wicked grin. "Perhaps I am not most people."

And for the first time, Thrawn laughed. He laughed openly, warmly, without even trying to maintain his usual cool demeanour. "No, Miss Eskari, you are most definitely not." He glanced at his chronometer and stood up. "I am afraid I must be going. Thank you for lunch, I had a most enjoyable time."

"You're most welcome, Captain, thank you for stopping by."

She followed him back into the room. He stopped to take one last look at the panels and turned around. "I assume I would have to tour the private residences of the great and mighty of this Palace to see the portraits you made?"

She nodded. "I did keep holos though, if you want to avoid the tour. I can bring you a datacard. But they're really not that interesting."

"That would be very kind of you, Miss Eskari. I would very much like to see your take on my colleagues. Could I come and pick it in the coming days?"

"Sure. I'll bring it tomorrow."

He nodded his thanks, shook her hand and turned crisply on his heel to leave.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Lesser citizens**

The swoop was hovering near the railing, close enough for Makh's head tentacles to tickle Ayesha's bare arms as he leaned closer to murmur to her. She caught the tip of one of them and stroked it playfully when he suddenly pulled away. His eyes had moved to a spot behind her. She spun around to see Thrawn stepping onto the balcony.

"Hello, Captain! Please come over." She gestured towards the Nautolan on the swoop. "This is Makh Vrill. Makh, this is Senior Captain Thrawn, I think I told you about him already."

The blue-skinned officer stepped forward and shook hands with Makh. His gaze locked on the Nautolan's bulging black eyes, and the two men seemed to size each other up for a moment.

"Makh is a philosopher and a writer," Ayesha said to fill the silence. "He recently published a book about..."

"_Lesser citizens: the place of non-human sentients in Imperial society_," Thrawn interrupted. "I am well aware of Mr. Vrill's work. I am currently reading your book," he added with a nod towards the Nautolan. "Very interesting so far. Although I must say that I disagree with the distinction you make between the statuses of near-human and non-human species." Ayesha nodded in assent.

"Most near-humans seem to adopt your point of view," Makh replied with a glance at Ayesha. "Although your particular opinion on this matter may be biased by the fact that you are quite well established in Imperial society," he added with a hint of sarcasm. He was staring contemptuously at the rank bars on Thrawn's uniform.

Ayesha gave Makh a nervous look. "Makh, don't get started now," she whispered as he laid a proprietary hand over hers on the railing.

Thrawn's even voice interrupted her. "I may not be as well-established as you would like to think."

"Really? That's a conversation with an Imperial officer I'll be looking forward to," Makh countered nastily. "However, it will have to wait for another day." He turned back to Ayesha. "Half an hour on the South landing platform?"

She nodded stiffly. He gave a mock salute to Thrawn and revved up the swoop to leave.

Ayesha turned back to Thrawn. Embarrassment was written all over her face, clearly visible under the grime covering her. "Sorry for that," she mumbled. "He's had a hard time since he came to Coruscant. He still has to work menial jobs despite his success as a writer, just because he's not human. It makes him a little... abrupt sometimes, especially with near-humans."

He waved it off. "Nothing to worry about. I take it that you already had this discussion with Mr. Vrill in the past?"

She sighed. "I've been trying to explain to him that near-humans get harassment from both sides – from humans for not being quite human and from aliens for being too human." Thrawn nodded knowingly. "But he just doesn't get it."

She walked back into the room, keyed for the housekeeping droids to come and set about wiping her tools and putting them away. Thrawn watched her silently for a few minutes. "May I ask you a question?" he asked finally.

She smiled. "Interrogation time?"

"It would be rather personal in nature."

She sat cross-legged on the floor and looked at him. "As long as it's not too personal, I should be able to cope. Fire off."

"This is the second time you mention being of mixed heritage," he said cautiously. "However..."

"However, I look perfectly human to you?" she completed for him. She rubbed the dust off her cheek to reveal the yellow Qukkuuf mark under her eye. "My mother was from Kiffu. The Kiffar people are not considered properly human."

"Really?"

"Really, though for the life of me I can't understand why. The differences between the Kiffar and baseline humans are minor. I think it has to do with the isolation of Kiffu, with the electrical storms and all that."

The red eyes swept the wall panels. "Well, that certainly explains something," he muttered to himself. She looked up questioningly but he didn't elaborate. With a slight shrug, she returned the last of her tools to the kit and sealed it.

"May I ask you a second personal question?"

She gave him a wry smile. "Go ahead."

"How come you settled on Kashyyyk instead of Kiffu? My understanding is that the Kiffar clans are tightly knit and that they take care of their own."

The sparkle vanished from her eyes for a fraction of a second. "The answer to that, Captain," she said airily, "is long and complicated." She stood up. "Will you please give me a few minutes? I need to clean myself up for the normal world."

She disappeared in the service room while he looked again at the wall panels. She was now halfway done with the one at the back of the room. Where her stylus had passed, the edges of the criss-crossing lightning-shaped clay lines were sharper and tiny grooves had been carved along their length. The surfaces had been sanded and were now perfectly smooth. This was obviously the result of a slow, time-consuming process.

She emerged from the small service room a few minutes later. Her face, hands and feet were now clean and she was wearing a light dress that hugged her curves. The sonic shower had even removed the dust from her hair, revealing short, jet-black braids contrasting sharply with the coloured beads tipping them. A jacket was swung over her shoulder and she carried a satchel in her hand. She dug into it and handed him a datacard. "Here you go, the holos you asked for. Can you please make sure you return this to me? I ran out of datacards and didn't have time to make a copy."

"Of course," Thrawn replied. "Many thanks for this. Will you allow me to accompany you to the South platform? My speeder is parked there."

They walked silently to the turbolift. "May I ask you a personal question now?" she asked. His eyes glittered as he looked up sharply. "You got to ask two today," she pointed out. "And I promise it won't hurt," she added with a small grin. He nodded with obvious discomfort. "I don't think I ever saw anyone of your kind before. Do your people have a name or do you consider yourselves human?"

"We call ourselves the Chiss," he replied stiffly as the turbolift started moving. "Until a few decades ago we did not even know that humans existed. Although given the similarities, of course, there are good chances that we have common origins."

The silence that followed was awkward but Ayesha decided to plough ahead regardless. "You really don't like being asked things about yourself, do you?"

To her great surprise, Thrawn laughed. "Your power of observation is remarkable, Miss Eskari." He paused for a minute. "In my culture it is greatly frowned upon to ask personal questions and to talk about oneself. It took me a while after I joined the Empire to adjust to the way humans openly express their curiosity. I cannot say that I have completely adapted yet."

It was her turn to laugh. The turbolift doors opened. "It seems to me you adapted a lot better to asking personal questions than to answering them. My power of observation also tells me that you're something of an information junkie."

Thrawn's lips twitched as he walked over to a small speeder in the left row. He pointed at a silhouette in the distance. "Mr. Vrill is waiting for you over there, Miss Eskari. You do not want to keep him waiting."

He watched her skip away to the end of the platform after they exchanged their goodbyes. Makh pulled her in a tight hug and gave her a passionate kiss, his head tentacles twitching over the skin of her arms as if tasting her. He helped her slip on her jacket and handed her a swoop helmet. As she pulled herself onto the swoop behind him, he glanced at Thrawn, who was still standing straight-backed near his speeder, and gave the other man a glare of pure loathing.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you for the review Shehezerade! I hope you will continue enjoying this story.

**Chapter 4: The raid**

A soft knock on the doorframe alerted Ayesha to the presence of a visitor. She stood up from the corner where she was crouching and found herself in the presence of Senior Captain Thrawn.

"Thank the stars," she muttered.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Did you fear I would disappear and take your datacard with me?"

"That's not what I meant." She picked a towel from the basket and began wiping her hands and face. "I need a break because I'm so totally fed up with the dust, and you're the perfect pretext to take a break. You have a moment?"

He followed her on the balcony and settled in a chair. "I don't have much to offer you," she said. "The choices are water, cold caf and leftover sandwiches from lunch." He accepted a glass of water and watched as she poured herself a cup of caf. She took a sip and grimaced, put her mug down on the table and stretched before leaning against the railing. "How was your trip?"

"Fairly interesting. There was some pirate trouble in Malastare that needed sorting out." He pulled a datacard out of his pocket and laid it on the table. "I apologize for the delay in returning this to you, I had to leave on rather short notice."

"No worries, Ceetoo told me. Did you learn anything interesting about my psyche from these?" she asked, a little teasingly.

His eyes twinkled. "My dear Miss Eskari, your psyche is indecipherable. I did learn a great deal about some of my colleagues and superior officers from your portraits though. Your depiction of Grand Admirals Tigellinus and Zaarin is particularly merciless."

She shrugged contemptuously. "As long as they can't see it..."

"I am quite certain that they are not the only ones who cannot see it. And they are most unlikely to learn your particular language to express such things. I would recommend however that you tread carefully around them. They are both powerful men who could make your life rather difficult."

She shrugged again and stretched, stifling a yawn. "Sorry for that, late night," she said by way of explanation.

There was a silence. Thrawn glanced at the room over his shoulder. "I see you made quite some progress in the last week."

"Yes, the carving phase is finally coming to an end. Just one panel to go. I'm so tired of it though that I might do some dusting first." She brandished a soft, palm-sized sweeper that she pulled from her apron.

Thrawn's lips twitched. "No vacuuming, no laziness?"

"No laziness," she repeated. "But it also serves another purpose. I actually want some dust to remain on the sculpts before I apply the oil-wax. It just needs to find its... natural place." She shrugged once more, as if realizing that she wasn't expressing her thoughts very well, and stifled another yawn.

There was another silence. Thrawn looked at her intently. There were black circles under her eyes and her face seemed to struggle against a constant frown. "You seem tired," he said. "And troubled."

She lowered herself in the chair next to his and sighed. "I am. There was a Trandoshan slaving raid on Kashyyyk four days ago and I haven't heard from my family yet. My adoptive family," she added in response to his cocked eyebrow.

"I am sorry to hear that," he said kindly. "But it is not the first time such a raid happens. I am sure your family knows how to deal with it to remain safe."

She sighed again. "They do. We normally go down and hide in the Fifth Level, and we wait for the slavers to leave, but that's hardly what you'd call safe with all the predators there. And I'm worried about my little brother, he fancies himself a great hunter and he might go and do something rash..."

"I am not sure I understand," Thrawn interrupted. "Are you telling me that your family live in one of the treetop settlements?"

She blinked at him. "Of course. Where else would they live?"

Thrawn opened his mouth to speak and closed it again. "I did some research about Kashyyyk after you mentioned it last week," he said finally. "I must say that, to my great shame, I knew very little about the planet. I was told that what few humans live there are gathered in a settlement on the coast because of the dangers in the forest."

She threw her head back and laughed as the credit dropped. "My family are not human, Captain. They're Wookiees."

The red eyes glittered. "You are certainly full of surprises, Miss Eskari. Most people..." He caught himself as she burst out laughing again. "I must remind myself never to use the phrase 'most people' when talking to you."

It made her laugh even harder. "Please don't take this personally," she hiccupped, "but your reaction is priceless."

"I do not. And if it will keep you from fretting, I will happily accept much worse." He looked at her as she sat up in her chair, finally catching her breath. "However, like most people," – he added special emphasis to the words – "I find it extremely difficult to imagine a delicate person like you surrounded by big, shaggy Wookiees."

She reached for her satchel under the table and extracted a handheld holoprojector. "Here." She switched it on. "Something to feed your imagination."

The image flickered to life. Ayesha appeared to be ten or eleven years old in the holo. She was sitting in the arms of a tan-furred Wookiee who was cradling her as if she were no more than a toddler. She was looking away from the camera, an absent expression on her face, her cheek resting on the massive, furry chest, while the Wookiee gazed at her with an expression of deep compassion. "This is Ata' Messiri," she said. "She's the healer of our village. This was on the day they adopted me."

She pressed a key on the base of the disk. The holo changed to a family picture. She was a little older in this one, perhaps thirteen, standing on a chair between two adult Wookiees and staring very seriously at the camera. She was holding a newborn Wookiee in her arms. Another young Wookiee was crouching in front of her. "Ata' Messiri again. This here" – she pointed at the other adult, who was darker in colour and had a baldric slung across his chest – "is Ada' Yakooboo. He's the village chieftain. The one crouching in front is my older brother Rabarruk. The slavers took him two years ago."

Thrawn turned his eyes to her sharply. She shrugged. "It happens a lot on Kashyyyk," she said, trying to sound casual. She gazed at the holo again and her face softened. "And the fur ball is my little brother Rumpy, he was just one day old. You should see him now," she chuckled, "he's the tallest in the family and the females in his age class are all over him."

She moved the holoprojector to the next image. Here she was sitting on Rabarruk's shoulders. Her delicate feet seemed tiny under the large paws holding her ankles. A Wookiee pup was riding on her own shoulders and all three were roaring with laughter. "This was on Life Day after Rumpy was born. He's maybe six months old in this holo."

Thrawn took the small pad from her hand for a closer look. "This is an exquisite image. You all seem very happy."

She sighed. "We were." Thrawn keyed forward. The new holo showed her standing in profile. She was wearing a plain grey jumpsuit with a leather bag strapped to her back. The dark-furred Wookiee was kneeling in front of her, his paw caressing her cheek as if she were a frightened child, even though she was visibly an adolescent now. "This was the first time I went to school. I was a bit nervous." Thrawn arched an eyebrow in question. "It was the aftermath of the Clone Wars. I missed out on education when I was a kid, so I had to catch up. I was fourteen when this holo was captured."

She reached to key for the last holo. She was a young woman in this one, her arms around the neck of a chestnut-furred Wookiee slightly taller than her who was holding her by the waist, her lips outstretched to kiss the tip of his nose. She was wearing a short leather dress and sandals, and her feet were lifted slightly off the ground. Her adoptive parents were looking on in the background. "Rumpy and me on the day I was admitted to the Academy," she said. "Wookiees normally hate it when you touch their nose, but Rumpy lets me do it because he's my little brother. He keeps saying that this'll change after he takes his Adulthood Trials, but I don't believe him." She lingered on the image a little, then took the device back from Thrawn, switched it off and tucked it back in her satchel.

There was a long silence during which her face darkened. Thrawn's voice finally broke into her thoughts. "I am sure they will all be fine," he said reassuringly. "But I do understand how difficult it is to wait."

She sighed again, as if she were carrying a massive weight. "It's not like we're not used to it, you know. We've been waiting for news from Rabarruk for two years. But it doesn't get easier with time."

"No," he said thoughtfully, his eyes unfocused in the distance. "It never does."

She looked at him questioningly but he didn't elaborate. She shook her head as if to remove that train of thought. "Did I convince you that Wookiees are not mindless brutes?"

He gave her a warm smile. "You certainly did."

"Then this is a good day." She stood up. "I need to get back to work. Makh's picking me up early today and I really want to finish this panel before I go."

They walked back into the room. She crouched under the panel she had been working on and resumed her scraping with a vengeance. Thrawn lingered briefly to look at the three panels that were already carved and sanded, then walked to the door.

"Captain?" she called without turning around. She heard him stop mid-step. "Do your people keep slaves?" she asked timidly.

He took a deep breath. "They do not. Unfortunately however, they are not willing to do what it takes to prevent others from taking slaves."

She sighed. "That's as good as it gets, isn't it? Thank you."


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you for the review, Neila Nuruodo!

**Chapter 5: Zygerria**

Ayesha brushed the last of the dust off the fourth panel and stepped back to look at her handiwork. Noticing a microscopic bump on the otherwise smooth surface, she unclipped a needle-thin tool from her apron and set about peeling it off. The stylus slipped from her nervous fingers and rolled behind her on the floor. Turning around, she saw Thrawn standing in the doorway.

"Good afternoon," he said in his cool voice. "I came to see how you are doing."

She averted her gaze from the red eyes. Her face was drawn and her hands were shaking slightly. "Same as yesterday," she mumbled in answer to his unspoken question.

He took a step into the room and looked at her carefully as she set back to work, trying to steady her grip around the carving tool. He came to stand next to her and presented her with a thermal bottle. "Some refreshments in case you need a break. Mulled beet extract from Devaron. It has calming properties and" – he glanced at her hands, where a droplet of blood was seeping from a deep cut on her thumb – "it seems you could use some soothing, especially if you are to be handling sharp objects."

It made her smile. She took a few wipes from the basket and followed him to the balcony. She stood in her usual place against the railing and gratefully accepted the mug he poured for her. The sweet scent of mulled beet wafted through the air. She closed her eyes and took a sip, and her face seemed to relax somewhat.

Thrawn sat back in his chair. "I found the programme of next month's Zygerrian festival on my desk this morning," he said after a moment to make conversation. "Will you be attending any of the events?"

Her entire body jerked. "Not if I can help it." Both blue-black eyebrows shot up. "I don't like Zygerrian culture so much," she added, vaguely embarrassed. The eyebrows travelled higher. She looked away again and, after an awkward silence, she crouched against the railing, hugging her knees to her chest.

Thrawn looked at her carefully. "I did not mean to upset or offend you," he finally said, uncharacteristically leaning forward. "I am truly sorry that I did, although I do not know why."

She looked up at him and studied his face while he sat facing her, elbows on his knees, his open hands palm upwards in a clearly apologetic stance. "I am sorry," he repeated.

She shook her head and put her mug on the floor. "No, I am. The truth is that I'm tired, I woke up on the wrong side of the starship, and talking about Zygerria always gets me in a tizzy. And seeing as you mentioned my father and we talked about... well, I assumed you knew." She took a deep breath and tightened her hug on her knees. "I was born a slave to the Zygerrians. My parents were taken in captivity when my mother was pregnant and I was brought up to be a dance slave. It's a time of my life I don't like to remember."

Understanding and embarrassment flooded his features. "I am terribly sorry."

She shrugged. "Don't be. In the end, there was no reason you should know."

"Yes and no," he said cautiously. "The very first book I read when I joined the Empire was Namajib Eskari's _Silences from the Edge of Life_."

Her eyes widened. "That book is banned," she whispered.

"It was not at the time. The Empire was only a few weeks old and the Old Republic's laws against slavery were still in place." He paused. "I take it that the Child with No Name referred to in the poems is you," he added tentatively.

She nodded and took another deep breath. "I didn't have a name until the age of seven, when I was freed during the Clone Wars. The slavers wouldn't allow it." Tears were shining in her eyes but her expression became softer. "Those poems were my father's way of leaving me with something when he understood he was dying. I was five years old, my mother had already passed away and he didn't want me to be completely alone. He composed the poems in his mind and had me memorize them, so I could recite them to myself after he was gone. My grandfather wrote them down for me later and the collection was published posthumously."

There was another, long silence. "I apologize again for bringing up the subject at all," he said. She went to interrupt him but he kept talking. "I did not associate what I read with Zygerria and the truth is that I was rather self-absorbed at the time." She gave him a curious look. "This is the part where I should volunteer some personal information," he added a little uncertainly.

"You really don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable," she said. "I assure you I'm not keeping score. It's just that... I guess I'd like to know how you came across that book. I never met someone who's willing to talk about it, you know?"

He gave a mirthless chuckle. "There is hope for you to learn Chiss manners yet, Miss Eskari. However, given the distress I caused you today, it is only fair that I try to justify myself a little." He leaned back into his chair and gazed at the cityscape behind her. "I read _Silences_ on my second day of Imperial service on the Star Destroyer _Strikefast_. It was the only printed book Captain Voss Parck had brought with him, which I found surprising since, on my homeworld, hardbound books are the norm. I saw him handling it with reverence in his private quarters and asked him what was so exceptional about this object. I did not expect his answer." He paused and collected his thoughts. "Captain Parck told me: 'When I hold this book, I am holding a piece of a man's broken soul. I fear constantly that, by letting it fall, I might shatter it further.' What surprised me even more was that he then offered that I take the book. When I returned to my own quarters that night, I hesitated to open it but curiosity got the better of me." He went silent again before resuming hesitantly. "The _Strikefast_ had, shall we say, rescued me one day earlier from a jungle planet where I was marooned. I had broken the Chiss military code one time too many, and the traditional punishment among my people for such a crime is exile. When I addressed Captain Parck in the docking bay after my... rescue, I had not spoken to another sentient for several years. As you said, it is a time of my life I do not like to remember." There was another long, pregnant pause. "There are no words to describe the experience of reading your father's poetry that night. Let me only say that the book has remained on my shelf to this day. I never returned it to Captain Parck in the nineteen years that have since passed. And I handle it with the same reverence he did." He sighed. "It is a great pity that this book is banned. Were it available for people to read, I am certain that the Galaxy would be quite a different place."

His eyes finally returned to her. He went to continue but she waved him off. She stood up. "Thank you," she said simply.

"For what?"

"For sharing this with me."

She held his gaze for a long moment until a sarcastic voice broke into her thoughts. "I hope I am not disturbing."

She spun around. Makh's swoop was hovering near the railing. Without another word, he slid a hand behind her neck and pulled her in a long, languid kiss. His head tentacles were flitting around her shoulders, tickling her skin rather explicitly. She was blushing when he let finally her go. "Aww, you're all dusty now." She brushed the corner of his mouth with her fingertips.

He scrutinized her face for a while, then took her hand and examined the deep cut on her thumb. "You hurt yourself again." She went to shrug it off but he interrupted her. "Go and clean up," he said in a commanding voice. "I'm taking you home now." She looked at him with raised eyebrows, clearly displeased with his tone. "Please," he added more softly. "One cut for today is enough."

She glanced at Thrawn, as if hesitating to engage in an argument in front of him, before returning to Makh. She shrugged angrily and exchanged embarrassed goodbyes with the Imperial captain, then disappeared into the room. The two men stayed alone on the balcony for a moment, red eyes staring into black eyes. Thrawn finally gave Makh a curt nod and turned sharply on his heel to leave.

"Stay away from her, you freak," Makh hissed behind him. "Just stay away from her."


	6. Chapter 6

An early (and tiny) update today since I'm leaving on a work trip and don't know if I'll manage to update on Monday.

Thank you for the follow/fav, sandcat118!

**Chapter 6: The firestone**

Ayesha was singing a happy tune as she unbundled the second batch of white-blue threads and hung them carefully one by one from a floating bar. They glittered in the ray of midday sunshine filtering in from the balcony transparisteel doors, sending sparks on the walls. She smiled at Ceetoo as he shuffled out of the room. The droid was visibly relieved at the absence of dust. Ayesha herself was unusually clean in her tight tank top and the baggy trousers hanging over her hips. A soft cough from the door made her look up. She gave Thrawn a radiant smile. "You're just in time for lunch, Captain."

He stepped in and gazed at the room. The grooves in the lightning-shaped pattern on the panel to the right of the balcony doors were already partially encrusted with the shimmering threads. "Snow crystal threads?"

"Feed me to the fishes of Naboo," she blurted. "I think I pick the most unusual material, and you just breeze in and identify it as if it were available in every grocery on Coruscant."

His eyes twinkled. "Certainly not on Coruscant." He gestured towards the floating bar. "Where do these come from?"

"Ando Prime. I travelled there for research when the Emperor chose the Northern Lights as the theme for this room and I found out about them by chance. I'd never heard about them before," she added questioningly.

"I have some experience with snow and ice from my homeworld. We have been locked in an ice age for several millennia. I am told however that snow crystal threads are difficult to harvest."

"I can confirm that," she replied with a knowing grin. "Come on, lunch." She directed him to the balcony. He hesitated. "What?"

"I have the distinct impression that Mr. Vrill is less than appreciative of my visits to you," he said cautiously. "I would not want to be causing you any... problems."

She shook her head. "Makh is a chauvinistic, domineering, insecure moron," she replied angrily. "He never realized that he doesn't get to dictate who I talk and don't talk to, and now it's too late for that since I won't be seeing him anymore. So causing problems is really not something you need to worry about." She gestured towards the balcony again and followed him as he stepped outside. "Never date a Nautolan, Captain. They pick your every mood change with those tentacles of theirs and they're as un-Chiss-like as it gets when it comes to prying."

His lips twitched as he took a sandwich. "I will keep that in mind." He watched as she poured two cups of caf before sitting across the table. She was humming to herself again. He cocked an eyebrow. "You seem to be in a rather cheerful mood."

"I got word from Ada' Yakooboo last night," she said happily. "The Trandoshan raid is over and everyone came home safely. Rumpy even got to snatch a silk thread from a syren plant and we're never going to hear the end of it. So yes, I'm a happy person today."

He gave her a warm smile. "I am glad to hear that."

They ate their sandwiches in a comfortable silence. Thrawn finally wiped his hand with a napkin, dug into his uniform pocket and extracted a small package. He pushed it across the table. "I believe you might like this," he said by way of an explanation.

She unwrapped the package carefully to reveal a fist-sized piece of stone. She held it up to see the crystals embedded in its core sparkle in the sunlight and gasped. "Is this what I think it is?" she whispered.

Thrawn's eyes twinkled, matching the sparkle in the stone. "It is."

She stared at it some more, then licked her thumb and ran it over one of the jagged edges. "A Rathalayan firestone this size, and so clear... This is extremely rare. Where did you find it?"

"On Rathalay." She looked at him, curiosity written all over her face. He shrugged. "I just returned from a three-day mission there. Do you like it?"

She returned to the stone, fingering it softly. "I never got to sculpt one of these," she said with deep longing in her voice. "As a matter of fact, I never even got to touch one before."

"Then this is a good place to start. To cut one, I mean," he added when her eyes shot to him.

"You... you want me to cut this for you?" she stuttered.

"No, I want you to cut it for yourself."

She stared at him, stunned. The stone was cupped in her hand while she caressed it with gentle fingertips. "This is an incredibly valuable gift, Captain," she finally said. "I don't think I can accept it."

"Of course you can," he replied evenly. "There is no point in me holding on to this when all I can do is let it sit on a shelf in my study."

She looked at him hesitantly, visibly torn between the need for propriety and her desire to cling on to the stone. "Why? Why are you giving me this?"

"Because I would like you to have it." She shook her head. Thrawn's eyes seemed to bore into hers. "Your family went missing for several days. I did not know if you had heard from them and thought that this was a good way to keep excessive concern at bay. As I said, I am glad to hear that they are safe, but it would be my great pleasure if you kept this stone nevertheless. Consider it my thanks for allowing me to watch as you develop this masterpiece," he added, gesturing at the room. "As you have noticed, I am an eager spectator of art, but this is the first time I have the opportunity to observe the creation of a piece. That, Miss Eskari, is a truly invaluable gift." She was still staring at him when he stood up. "I must go. There are several important meetings this afternoon that I need to prepare for." He gave her a bow and turned on his heel to leave.

"You've experienced it, haven't you?" she called after him, causing him to stop mid-step. "Someone you greatly care about went missing and you had to wait for them to return."

He turned around and looked at her. "Yes," he said curtly. "I have."

"How long did you wait?"

"Twenty-seven years," he sighed. "And counting." And with that, he gave her another bow and left the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: The **_**Twi'lek Dancer**_

Ayesha was once again humming to herself as she poured more oil-wax in her handheld container. She collected her brushes from the floor and wiped them to remove any dust that may be trapped in the soft, silky hairs, then clipped them to her belt. Standing on the tip of her toes, she carefully placed the cup of oil-wax on the top shelf of her ladder and went to climb up when Thrawn walked in. "Welcome back," she said. "I was wondering where you'd disappeared."

The red eyes swept the room, which had changed considerably over the past ten days. All panels were now encrusted with snow crystal threads and the three to the right of the entrance were already coated in oil-wax. Ayesha had apparently just started work on one of the two panels to the left. He finally returned his gaze to her. "It is nice to think that I was missed. I had to go off world for a short mission. I see that you have been keeping busy."

She smiled. "Yes, I'm finally seeing the end of it. It's grease week." He arched an eyebrow. She pointed at the bucket of oil-wax on the floor. "After mud week and dust week, there's grease week. You want to be careful not to get any on your uniform. There's no soap in the Galaxy to get rid of this stuff."

He gazed at the bucket for a moment, then at the brushes hanging from her belt. "I thought that oil-wax is sprayed," he said. "But of course you have an explanation for applying it with a brush, which has to do with your lack of laziness and something more."

She smiled again. "Spraying oil-wax tends to flatten the sculpt," she explained. "Applying it with a brush enables me to emphasize volumes the way I want. But it's a bit messier, of course." She pointed at the stains on her clothes.

His eyes twinkled. "Yes, it explains your elegant outfit."

She waved a brush at him. "You weren't around for crystal week, when I was clean for six days in a row. Your loss." She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, smearing a spot of oil a bit wider. It made him chuckle. "The dedication of this room is in a week from today, will you be around?"

"I certainly hope so. I actually received the invitation this morning. Not that I needed a reminder to come and check on you."

She blushed a little and suddenly turned crimson, dropping into a deep curtsey. Thrawn turned around to see the Emperor walk into the room. He clasped his hands behind his back and stiffened to attention.

"Please, my dear friends, there is no need for such formalities in this setting," the Emperor said. Ayesha stood up but kept her head bowed, avoiding the Emperor's yellow eyes. He placed a finger under her chin, causing her to take a step back.

"My most sincere apologies, Your Majesty," she said firmly. "I am in no state to be anywhere near Your Highness. It would be most embarrassing if I were responsible for staining your cloak," she added with a humourless smile.

The Emperor chuckled, his eyes travelling from her to Thrawn, who was still standing with his hands behind his back. "I see that you have made the acquaintance of the very best tactician in my fleet," he said. "And you, Captain, have met Miss Eskari. Tell me, what do you think of her?"

"Miss Eskari is a remarkably talented artist," Thrawn said coolly. "I found her here entirely by chance when she was beginning her work in this room and she was kind enough to allow me to observe her progress. It has been a true privilege."

The Emperor returned to Ayesha. His eyes locked on hers, and she abruptly turned deathly pale and stifled a gasp, as if in sudden pain. "I do not need to ask what you think of Senior Captain Thrawn, my dear. It is written plainly in your mind for me to read." He paused. "Although this is rather unsurprising given the unfortunate matter of your parentage." A flash of anger flickered across her face, bringing some colour back to her cheeks. He gave a satisfied chuckle. "It is a pleasant coincidence that I find you both here," he went on casually. "I am hosting a dance recital in my private auditorium tonight and it would be my great pleasure if you could join my other guests."

"Your Majesty," Ayesha blurted before Thrawn could answer, "it is of course a great honour for me. However I do not see how I could possibly attend, I have no appropriate clothes with me and..."

"Now, now, my dear," the Emperor interrupted. "The good Captain here won't mind flying you home and bringing you back. I am certain you can manage to transform into a presentable evening companion in the next three hours."

Thrawn bowed his head deferentially. "As Your Majesty wishes."

"It is settled then." The Emperor moved to the door. "I will be expecting you in my private auditorium at nineteen hundred hours."

Ayesha dropped again into a curtsey and did not stand up until she heard the turbolift doors closing in the distance. Her whole body was trembling. Thrawn eyed her curiously. "Are you alright?"

"I hate it when he does that," she whispered shakily. The blue-black eyebrow arched in question. "When he reads my mind. I feel like there are maggots wandering inside my head." The second eyebrow joined the first. "Doesn't he do it with you?"

"No," Thrawn said. "Not that I am aware of at any rate."

She sighed. "This fellowship... it's like indentured servitude."

Thrawn remained silent for a moment as she shuffled around, putting things away. "I will go and change to my dress uniform while you clean up here. I can fly you home afterwards." She answered with a noncommittal grunt, and he was gone.

The speeder trip to Ayesha's apartment took place in an uneasy silence. She was visibly moody and limited her conversation with Thrawn to directions through the Coruscant skylanes. "Why are you so upset, Miss Eskari?" he asked finally as she pointed to a landing pad outside a penthouse apartment. "There are surely worse things than an invitation to a dance recital in His Majesty's private quarters."

"I like to choose the company I keep, thank you very much," she snapped. She got out of the speeder and dug into her satchel for the key card. She was halfway across the platform to the door when she realized that Thrawn was not following her. She turned around to see that he was still on the landing pad, leaning back against his speeder. "Aren't you going to come in?"

"I will wait for you here, Miss Eskari," he replied stiffly. She gave him a perplexed look. "You made it abundantly clear that my presence is unwelcome."

She sighed and walked back to him. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to offend you. I'm just..." She took a deep breath. "The idea of spending a whole evening in the Emperor's presence makes me very uncomfortable, I hate him for making you play driver for me and I expect there will be many people I don't want to see at this shindig. I'm very, very sorry. I actually enjoy your company very much. Please come in."

He hesitated. "I do not want to intrude upon your privacy."

She shook her head. "Captain, you're being silly now," she said a little impatiently. "You're not intruding at all. Please come in before I have to drag you across this platform. I'm sure there's enough oil-wax left on my hands to ruin your nice dress uniform forever," she added with a grin.

His features relaxed as he followed her through the door into a spacious apartment with a domed transparisteel roof. There was an Alderaanian conversation circle in the middle of the large room and an elaborately carved dining table to its left, with a kitchen counter behind it. The double doors to the right were closed and a wide hallway started across the atrium, presumably leading to the bedrooms. A single statue of polished black stone occupied the space between the conversation circle, the hallway and the closed doors.

"This is quite a place you have here." His glowing eyes took in every detail of the tasteful decoration.

She dropped her satchel by the door and slipped off her sandals. "It's one of the perks of the fellowship. An apartment that doubles as an art gallery when needed. And the best part is that I get to keep it after the fellowship is over."

She disappeared into the kitchen. When she returned, she found Thrawn examining the stone statue. "One of your earlier works?" he asked, taking the glass she was offering.

"My first ever life-size statue, the _Twi'lek Dancer_. I'm very fond of it despite all its imperfections. I had no idea what I was doing, but somehow I got the movement right."

The statue represented a stylized female Twi'lek standing on one foot with the other lifted slightly off the ground. Her arms were gracefully curved above her faceless head, and her lekku were flying behind her, as if in the middle of a pirouette. "It is quite stunning," Thrawn said, finally taking his eyes off the statue.

She held up her glass. "Cheers. It's Cortyg brandy from Kashyyyk," she added when he gazed at the contents somewhat suspiciously.

He took a tentative sip. "This is actually quite nice, albeit very strong."

She laughed. "You should see the variety they brew for Wookiees. This stuff is recycled water in comparison." She watched him as he took another sip. "It looks like you can handle it. Listen, I need to take a shower and make myself presentable, which might take a while. Why don't you make yourself comfortable? There's a holoscreen over there and some databooks on the table." He nodded and she moved towards the hallway, but caught herself mid-step. "On second thought" – she walked to the closed doors behind the statue – "I think that this is where you really want to be." She pressed her hand to the activation panel and ushered him through the doors as they slid open.

It was her workshop. A large table occupied the centre of the room, surrounded on three sides by waist-high bookcases overflowing with both printed and electronic books. There was a stool and a stand similar to a potter's wheel at the far end of the table, with an unfinished woodcarving wedged in a durasteel collar on the wheel. The top shelf of the bookcase behind it was covered in carefully catalogued tools, while more styluses and the Rathalayan firestone were spread on the edge of the table nearby. The back of the room was a jumble of statues, sculpts and flats. She keyed to open the blinds. The afternoon sunlight flooded the room through the domed ceiling. "There. The treasure trove." She looked at Thrawn and smiled when she caught the eager glitter in his eyes. "Now I can take my time to prepare myself." And without further ado, she disappeared in the back of the apartment.


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you for the fav, Zaconator and Zackis!

**Chapter 8: The owner**

Thrawn was standing with his hands behind his back, his gaze fixed on the unfinished wood carving on the potter's wheel, when Ayesha came back to the doorway of the workshop. "You seem mesmerized," she said.

"That would be because I am," he replied in a distant voice. He tore his eyes off the sculpt and moved them to her. They glittered with a phosphorescence she had not seen before as they swept over her. "And now I am stunned."

She blushed with pleasure and clipped on her second earring. She was wearing a formal evening gown the colour of moonlight. A thin veil covered her arms and shoulders, under which the light shimmersilk of the dress proper flowed elegantly to the floor. Her small feet were encased in pale grey slippers. She had removed the braiding from her hair and styled it in soft spikes to frame her face, and her discreet makeup enhanced the yellow Qukuuf mark underlining her left eye. Her hands fiddled with the clasp of her necklace, a dragon pearl pendant held by delicate silver filigree. "Can you please help me with this?"

He took the chain from her and clasped it behind her neck. "Say what you will of His Majesty," he murmured in her ear, "but I for one am grateful that he ordered me to escort such a beautiful woman."

Her blush darkened. "Thank you." She took a step away from him to collect her glass from the table and noticed that his glass was still full. "Didn't you like the brandy? I can get you something else."

He composed himself. "The brandy is excellent, thank you. I was so absorbed in your work that I simply forgot about it." He pointed at the wooden sculpt on the wheel. "This piece is fascinating."

The sculpt represented the bust of a faceless woman. The bald head was thrown back, the slender neck arching in a crescent, and the shadow of a mouth was open as if letting out a scream. Curling, waving tendrils emerged from the base of the bust, as if licking the woman's round shoulders in water or flames. It was still raw and unpolished but conveyed a powerful emotion.

"Fijisi wood," she said. "One of my favourite materials."

His eyes were fixed on the sculpt again, his gaze intense as if seeking to pry answers from it. "Did you name this piece?" he finally asked.

"No. I haven't quite decided what it represents yet."

He stared at it for a long moment before tearing his eyes from it with visible effort. "So," he said conversationally, "who is the lucky courtier who ordered this?"

She shrugged. "No one. This is something I've been doing for myself, to keep my sanity. Sometimes I need to do things without the limitations of the fellowship."

"I understand. I think I do at least." He gestured towards the jumble of sculpts in the storage area. "I do not claim to comprehend what you seek to express. To be honest, I have never been exposed to such a whirlwind of emotions as embodied by those pieces you created without obvious constraint. There is something deeply contradictory about them. Having to work under the conditions of your fellowship must feel like being caught in a straightjacket."

She merely nodded in assent. His eyes swept the workshop once more and came to a large wooden disk hanging from the wall above the potter's wheel. A five-point star carved out of the yellowish wood was inscribed in a circle consisting of what appeared to be twisted rope, with five spheres decorating the gaps between the points of the star. Thrawn looked at it carefully. "This is not your work, but given the place you chose for it, it matters to you a great deal."

She smiled. "It's a khraashyr," she explained. "A Wookiee lineage shield. Ada' Yakooboo made it for me when I came to Coruscant." She pointed at the various features on the disk. "The pentagram stands for my mother's clan on Kiffu. The twisted vines represent my Wookiee tribe and the five spheres are the five planets of Corellia, in remembrance of my father." She took a step closer and showed Thrawn the line of symbols carved around the edge. "And this is my full name. Ayesha Eskari of clan Vos, of the tribe of the Green Vines of Rwookrrorro."

His gaze returned to her. "You still have not told me how you ended up on Kashyyyk instead of Kiffu."

A haunted expression clouded her eyes. She glanced at the chronometer on the wall. "I'm afraid that will have to keep for another day, Captain. We don't want to keep the Emperor waiting."

All the eyes in the Emperor's private auditorium turned to them as they made their entrance, the most senior courtiers and military officers not even bothering to conceal the loathing glares they gave Thrawn, nor their predatory stares as they took her in. She raised her chin in defiance as Thrawn led her serenely to the seats that had been assigned to them. She kept her head high but sagged back in her chair as soon as the lights were dimmed for the recital to begin.

The dancers – all human of course – were the Emperor's favoured courtesans. They performed to pieces of music from all over the Galaxy. They wove in and out of the stage with astounding grace, seemingly radiating a glow that took the audience in its thrall. When the last dancer, a slender woman with red-gold curls, fell into a death spiral, bringing the performance to an end, the atmosphere in the room was electric. Behind Ayesha, Grand Admiral Zaarin let out a rasping breath when the curtain finally fell.

Thrawn waited for most of the audience to leave before offering his arm and guiding her to the foyer of the auditorium, where refreshments were being served. All faces turned to them again. She was struggling now to remain impassive and did not manage to hide her weariness as her eyes darted around the room. She was tense like a cornered animal.

He led her silently to the buffet and offered her a glass of cold wine. She sipped at it gratefully but nearly let it drop when the Emperor suddenly materialized at her side with his usual entourage of advisors and courtiers. She barely managed to put down the glass with shaking hands before giving him a deep curtsey.

"The effect of my dancers' performance on you pleases me greatly, my dear," the Emperor said. She mumbled vaguely and kept her head down. A wrinkled hand emerged from his cloak and pulled her chin upwards. He scrutinized her face with his yellow eyes, somehow causing her to turn deathly pale again. "It is a great pity such an extraordinary creature as you would have no sensitivity to the Force. It is highly unusual for someone who is not Force-sensitive to shine in the Force in such a way."

The wrinkled hand let her go, making her stagger against the buffet table. The Emperor chuckled and waved at a man standing a few steps away to come closer. "May I introduce Master Kchak Pr'ollerg," he said without taking his eyes off her, as if gauging her reaction. Ayesha sucked in a breath as she looked into the man's face. He was very much human in appearance, except for his pointed ears and the two bony spurs protruding from his jaw. The Emperor looked at her a moment longer before he continued. "Master Kchak" – he laid special emphasis on the word 'master' – "is the organizer of the Zygerrian festival which is due to begin in two days. As you know, Zygerria is a valued supporter of the New Order and I intend to honour the festival with my presence. I will be most pleased that you escort me to the opening ceremony." His yellow eyes twinkled with glee as she took another deep, calming breath. "Dance performances, I am sure, are a source of inspiration for an artist of your quality, and you of all people know the quality of a Zygerrian dance troupe."

The courtiers surrounding him were now devouring Ayesha with their eyes, as if trying to grasp the hidden meaning behind the Emperor's words. She steadied herself and bowed deeply. "I am humbled by your kindness, Your Majesty. It will be a great honour for me to accompany you to the festival."

The Emperor's gaze lingered on her before travelling warningly to Thrawn. "I will be expecting you then." And with a swish of his cloak, he turned around and moved on to another group, taking Kchak Pr'ollerg and his courtiers with him.

Ayesha reached for her glass on the buffet table and downed the wine in a single gulp. Thrawn gave her a concerned look and was about to speak when a jovial voice called her name.

"It looks like I won't get a break tonight," she grumbled before turning around to see Grand Admiral Zaarin walking towards them in long strides.

"Miss Eskari, it's such a pleasure," Zaarin exclaimed. He took her hand and kissed it, shooting Thrawn a scornful look. Thrawn remained regal and impassive, merely acknowledging his presence with a curt nod. "I hope you're well, it's been a while since I last saw you." Without giving her time to answer, he put his hand on the small of her back and steered her towards a dark-skinned man a few steps away who was talking to Grand Admiral Tigellinus. "I want to introduce you to Grand Admiral Niall Declann. I believe he hasn't had the pleasure of meeting you yet."

Thrawn observed from a distance as the three men in white uniforms circled around Ayesha like a pack of Utapau rock-vultures. They were invading her personal space, causing her to repeatedly sidestep one or the other in order to avoid physical contact. Their hands hovered around her, reaching out every now and then for her cheek, her arm or her shoulder. Zaarin in particular took every opportunity to place his hand again on the small of her back. She was looking increasingly annoyed and breathed a sigh of relief when the dancers, having changed into elaborate evening dresses, made their entrance, providing her with a welcome distraction to take a few steps away from the trio.

She felt a hand on her wrist and spun around with renewed exasperation to find herself facing Thrawn. He let her go and offered his arm. "I think that this is a good time to slip away unnoticed," he whispered. His eyes had taken the colour of molten lava and there was fury in his voice. She gave him a small, grateful smile as they made their escape to the landing platform. He helped her into the speeder without saying a word and took off in the Coruscant skylanes.

"Are you alright?" he asked after a while as they flew over the city.

She snorted bitterly. "You mean after an hour of being pawed by three men with a libido even more inflated than their ego?"

"I apologize for the attitude of my superior officers," he growled through clenched teeth. "Their behaviour was unacceptable and, frankly, disgraceful. I am truly sorry that you had to endure that."

She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. "On days like this I wish I'd never left Kashyyyk. Sometimes I feel like this fellowship made me a piece of property that can be passed around and toyed with." She remained silent for a moment. "That man is vile," she sighed.

"Grand Admiral Zaarin?"

She shook her head. "The Emperor." Thrawn arched an eyebrow at her bluntness. "Yes, I know, this sort of talk can land me in a prison cell, but I assure you, right now I don't care. He's vile and evil."

Thrawn gave her a sideways look without taking his attention off the traffic on the skylane. "You are not referring to the scene with the Grand Admirals anymore, are you?"

There was a long silence. "He was my owner," she breathed finally, her voice barely audible over the hubbub of the city. "The Zygerrian man. He was my owner. He was the one who wouldn't give me a name. And the Emperor knew. He always knows." She was fighting back tears now. "And I'm going to have to smile at him and talk to him and..." Her voice trailed off.

The speeder landed outside her apartment. Thrawn turned on the side to look at her. She grabbed his arm. "I'm scared. I'm scared that the Emperor will give me back to him."

"I am certain that it is not His Majesty's intention," Thrawn said calmly.

"He will," she panted. "He will, he showed me in my mind, he showed me..." She was visibly panicking now; sweat was beading on her forehead and her eyes had become unfocused and glassy. Thrawn took her trembling hands in his and squeezed them tightly.

"Miss Eskari, look at me." Her eyes darted wildly in all directions. "Look at me," he repeated louder, snapping her out of the panic attack. "No one will give you to anyone. You are a free woman and you will remain a free woman," he said in a soothing voice. He let go of her hands. "Now take a deep breath and calm yourself."

She was still staggering slightly as he walked her to her door across the platform ten minutes later. "Are you sure you will be alright?" he asked. "You may want to call a friend to spend the rest of the evening with you. Or perhaps Mr. Vrill?"

She shook her head. "I told you, I'm not seeing Makh anymore. But I'll be fine." She slid the key card in the lock and looked up at him. "Thank you. For everything."

He nodded and returned to his speeder as she entered her apartment. She didn't see him pull out his datapad to look up information. He didn't see her emerge from her room in a plain black jumpsuit and slip into the turbolift.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: The good news for me this week is that 1. I'm done writing part 1, all it needs now is chapter-by-chapter editing, 2. my fantastic beta-reader over at TF.N is up for accelerated beta-reading. The good (?) news for you, dear reader, is that I'll therefore be able to up my game and post twice a week, on Mondays and Thursdays. If you guys and gals find that it's too often, let me know and I'll slow down.

After a discussion with readers on the TF.N boards, I went back and did some minor edits on chapter 8 to emphasize that Thrawn is still a junior officer at this stage compared to Zaarin and couldn't really intervene in his "conversation" with Ayesha. I hope it's clearer now.

And without further ado, here's the next (short) chapter.

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><p><strong>Chapter 9: Ted<strong>

The mid-morning sunlight was streaming in the meeting hall through the balcony doors as Ayesha put away the last of her tools and closed her kit. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, singing a cheerful Corellian song, and her clear voice rang across the room and into the hallway.

"Someone is having a good day," an amused voice said from the door.

She looked up to see Thrawn leaning against the doorframe and gave him a wide smile. "Didn't you hear? The Zygerrian festival was cancelled. There was a mass break-out of their slaves last night. And if that weren't good enough, Kchak Pr'ollerg was found dead yesterday morning. He was apparently mugged on his way out of the Emperor's dance recital." She stood up and pirouetted, slipping on a drop of oil-wax on the tarpaulin covering the floor and nearly losing her balance. It made her laugh. Her face became serious after she landed before Thrawn. "You must think I'm a horrible person, to be rejoicing over a sentient's death like that."

"It is entirely understandable. I do not normally approve of rejoicing over anyone's death, but I do hope that there is a special place for slavers in Chaos," he added with pure loathing in his tone before reverting to his cool, even voice. "I am told that His Majesty is in a fury, particularly over the slave break-out. I understand that it has been claimed by a group calling themselves the Inter-Species Equality Network."

She shrugged. "Whoever they are, they have my heartfelt thanks."

"You may want to be a little more careful what you say on this matter in the coming days. There will be an investigation and I would hate to see you among the suspects because of a throwaway line."

Ayesha laughed. "Can you imagine anyone investigating me? The HoloNet News hacks would have a field day. 'Harmless twenty-seven year old artist suspected of aiding and abetting the break-out of two hundred slaves. The investigation is still on-going,'" she said, miming a popular anchor's tone. Thrawn's lips twitched. "Besides, I couldn't have done it. I pulled an all-nighter here, every surveillance device in the Palace can testify to that." She gestured triumphantly towards the walls.

His gaze wandered to the panels. "So you are done here."

"Almost. I have to come back tomorrow for some final touch-ups and set the stage for the big day. Then I'm taking Benduday off. I need to do important things like going to the hairdresser." She lifted her toolkit and carried it to the service room. "And then, on Primeday at twenty hundred hours, it's showtime," she added cheerfully. "You'll be here, right?"

"I would not miss it for the Galaxy." He took a step towards one of the panels. "This is truly remarkable."

"Just wait until it's dry," she replied. "And there's an added bonus in the timing of the dedication ceremony." He gave her the questioning eyebrow. "Not telling. You'll have to be here to see it."

He chuckled softly and looked at her as she put away her ladder and rolled up the tarpaulin. She keyed for the housekeeping droids and came to stand in front of him. "I owe you a very big thanks for putting up with me the other night," she said. He went to speak but she continued. "Actually, 'putting up' doesn't begin to describe it. I was moody and rude and I kept complaining and moaning, and you were very, very kind to me. If you hadn't been there I would probably have gone off the deep end, and I want you to know that I am grateful." She gave him a small smile. "I hope I can make it up to you some other time."

"Nothing could be further from the truth. I consider myself privileged that I was able to visit your workshop and spend an evening with you, regardless of the circumstances." He hesitated. "However, if you really want to make it up to me, perhaps you will allow me to take you out to dinner tonight."

She blushed a little. "I'd like that very much, Captain, but I don't think it would be appropriate right now," she said cautiously. "You saw what it's like when I find myself on the receiving end of the Emperor's prodding and I'd rather avoid giving him pretexts for more... unpleasant situations." She smiled again. "But I'll be very happy to accept your invitation when I'm not in indentured servitude to this Palace anymore."

He looked at her for a moment. "You are right, of course. I am leaving for a tour of duty on the Star Destroyer Vengeance next week, so I will invite you in the new year."

"It's a date then," she said happily, and she disappeared into the service room to change.

* * *

><p>It was Benduday afternoon and Thrawn was running along an alley in the Imperial Gardens when he heard someone call his name. Looking around, he saw Ayesha waving at him. She was lounging on the lawn, basking in the sunshine. He walked over and crouched at her side.<p>

"It's the first time I see you in civilian clothes," she said.

He brushed some nonexistent dust from his jumpsuit. "I am sure I would cause quite a sensation if I came jogging here in my uniform. And it is rather pleasant to escape from the training room from time to time."

She pulled at the grass. "I like it here. It reminds me of home – inasmuch as anywhere in Coruscant can remind me of home. I miss the plantlife and the open skies sometimes."

A handsome man in his late twenties came along with two disposable cups. He gave Thrawn an annoyed look and sat down next to Ayesha. "I found the cafeteria."

"Thanks," she said, taking a cup. "Ted, this is Senior Captain Thrawn."

The man named Ted held out his hand reluctantly for Thrawn to shake and remained silent and brooding as Ayesha and Thrawn made some more small talk. Thrawn finally stood up. "I should be going. It was nice seeing you."

"I'll see you tomorrow," she called behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder as he walked away and saw Ayesha and Ted engaging in an animated conversation.


	10. Chapter 10

As I said on Thursday, I'm going to try posting twice a week, every Monday and Thursday. This is just a note for those who haven't checked in since last Monday that there's an extra chapter up.

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><p><strong>Chapter 10: Captain Ruud<strong>

Row upon row of military officers stood to stiff attention as the Emperor gave his speech for the dedication of the Northern Lights room. The speech ended and Ayesha took the stand. She looked a little nervous in her dark green, delicately embroidered tunic and matching trousers. Her hair was braided close to her scalp in an upwards helix-like pattern, with the tips of the braids tucked under a small, golden cap on the top of her head. She took a deep breath as she began to speak and saw Thrawn giving her a reassuring glance from a row towards the middle of the room.

As expected given the formality of the occasion, she thanked the Emperor for granting her the fellowship and the privilege of decorating a room to be used by the key defenders of the Empire. She ran through the courtesies with ease and grace, and finally took another deep breath and pressed her small hand to the release panel on the podium.

There was polite applause as the drapes fell to the ground to reveal the pale, shiny grey lightning pattern on the wall panels. The snow crystal threads were shimmering softly in the room's light. The applause increased slowly as the panel behind her came to life. The last rays of the setting sun licking the wall caused the crystals to flash with a brilliant blue-green glow, and the reflection of their sparkle made the other wall panels glitter in turn. By the time the aurora had made its way around the room, the applause was deafening. She blushed and smiled, and gave a small bow before directing the crowd to the hallway, where refreshments were being served.

She stepped off the podium to see Grand Admiral Zaarin taking a determined stride towards her. She dodged him with equal determination and dropped into a deep curtsey in front of Darth Vader, who was standing near the double doors to the hallway, his arms crossed on his chest. She noticed in the corner of her eye that Zaarin had stopped dead in his tracks.

"Lord Vader, I am deeply honoured that you could join us today," she said. He merely gave her a nod of his black mask, his mechanical breathing echoing in the room as the last officers in attendance filed out. "I wanted to tell you that your information on Gungan clay was very valuable," she went on timidly. "I adjusted the mix after our conversation and I think it made a real difference. You can see the little corner up there, where there are still traces of the original mix. It doesn't reflect light the same way."

The black mask turned slowly to take in the room. "The result was obviously worth it," he said finally.

She stayed at his side silently until Thrawn walked in with two glasses of wine in his hands and made for the balcony. His lips were twitching and there was a twinkle in his eyes; he was obviously greatly enjoying himself. More officers and some Palace courtesans came back with their drinks and started wandering around to examine the panels. "Thank you, My Lord. It has been an honour and a pleasure." He gave her another nod and turned on his heel, his black cape floating behind him as he left the room.

She made her way to the balcony, accepting graciously compliments from various Navy officers. Thrawn handed her one of the glasses and touched it with his own. "Congratulations, Miss Eskari," he murmured. "That was quite a display."

"It wasn't such a surprise for you," she countered. "You'd already had a pretty big sneak preview of the main attraction tonight."

"I did not know that you actually managed to create a living aurora out of mud. I must say that I am very impressed. However," – his eyes twinkled again – "for once I was not referring to your art." She looked at him in question. "Your idea of chatting up Lord Vader to avoid Grand Admiral Zaarin was, to say the least, unexpected. Most people" – he emphasized the words – "would value their life far too much to risk such a trade-off."

She shrugged. "Well, as you know..."

He smiled. "I know."

"Besides," she added, "Lord Vader has never done me any ill. Quite the opposite, he actually gave me the idea of modifying the modified Demahl. Zaarin on the other hand... he's just a vulture."

He took a look at the small crowd milling about in the meeting hall and turned his gaze back to her. "You would probably get much less hassle in Palace functions if you came accompanied. Perhaps you should have brought along that lucky young man I saw with you yesterday."

She laughed. "Who, that nitwit from the Imperial Gardens? I met him about half an hour before you came along and I left him on that lawn less than ten minutes after you were gone."

Both eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really? You seemed very much at ease with him, one would say even familiar."

"I'm a twenty-seven year old woman, Captain," she said tersely. "I flirt. But when the idiot I'm flirting with asks me why I'm talking to an alien..." There was a flash in Thrawn's eyes. "Don't worry, I asked him in turn why he was hitting on an alien. You should've seen the look on his face." She chuckled a little, then added, "There's really no escaping the bantha poodoo on this planet."

They stood in silence as more people joined them on the balcony. An officer in his early thirties detached himself from a group and came over to them. He gave Thrawn a crisp salute. "Captain Thrawn, it's always a pleasure to see you, sir."

"Likewise, Captain Ruud," Thrawn said. "I believe you have not met Miss Eskari yet?"

The young officer shook Ayesha's hand as Thrawn introduced him as Captain Matthias Ruud. He was extremely good-looking, with sparkling blue eyes and an easy charm. He held Ayesha's hand a moment longer than necessary as he spoke. "It's an honour to meet you, Miss Eskari. I wanted to thank you in person for your work. I have now a valid reason to look forward to High Command meetings. And it will always be a pleasant memory to think that this was created by such a lovely woman."

They went on chatting for a few minutes, with the occasional interruption of an officer or a courtesan who came to offer Ayesha their compliments. Captain Ruud told her of his service in the Outer Rim and she asked him many questions about the various worlds and cultures there. He then asked about her art and the conversation finally turned to the subject of her fellowship.

"So there's no chance I can convince you to create something especially for me," he said teasingly.

"Not at this time, unless the Emperor requests it," she answered with a smile. "But I will consider your application when the fellowship is over."

"There will be no need for Captain Ruud to wait that long, my dear," the Emperor's voice said behind her. She spun around and dropped into a curtsey while the two men stood to attention. The Emperor waved them permission to stand at ease, then raised Ayesha's chin with his wrinkled hand. "I believe we can add Captain Ruud to the list of the happy few who can enjoy your work and your company. I would do the same for Captain Thrawn – but I strongly suspect you did not wait for my permission."

Ruud gave Ayesha a curious look at this last comment, then caught himself and turned to the Emperor. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I am far too junior for such an honour. Miss Eskari was telling me that she has done work for the Grand Admirals and..."

"Not at all, my dear boy, not at all," the Emperor interrupted. "This young lady has a way of attracting the best and brightest of my officers. I believe we should all take advantage of her fine taste in men."

Ayesha blushed a little but managed to keep her composure. "It will be my pleasure to make Captain Ruud's portrait," she said with a stiff bow.

Ruud laughed. "My portrait? I wouldn't know what to do with my portrait. I see myself in the mirror every morning."

The Emperor chuckled. "Then what would you like, my boy? I have no doubt Miss Eskari can create it for you."

"That's quite a question, Your Majesty." His eyes returned to Ayesha. "I guess what I'd like is... something to remember you by."

Ayesha swallowed uncomfortably. "That's a difficult request, Captain," she said, trying to match Ruud's easy tone. "I hardly know anything about your interests and preferences."

"Perhaps you can take Miss Eskari to dinner then, now that our guests are leaving," the Emperor told Ruud. He turned his yellow eyes to Ayesha. "Captain Ruud will tell you all about himself, and I am certain you will come up with one of your usual masterpieces. These young people should be given an opportunity to enjoy themselves, don't you think so, Captain Thrawn?"

Thrawn nodded curtly. Ayesha swallowed again. "With pleasure, Your Majesty," she mumbled.

The Emperor chuckled and left, leaving behind him an uncomfortable silence. Ayesha fiddled with the hem of her tunic until Ruud spoke. "So you're free to go to dinner then? We could do it some other day if you had plans for tonight."

She forced a smile. "No, tonight is perfect. Should we get going?"

He gave her a boyish grin. "That's great. Give me a moment to talk to Admiral Ozzel and I'll come and fetch you."

She watched him walk back in the almost-empty room. "You know," she muttered to Thrawn, "I think that chatting up Lord Vader isn't enough. Maybe I should start dating him instead."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: The gift**

Ayesha's bare feet pattered on the floor as she ran out of her workshop to answer the doorbell. Thrawn was standing in his straight-backed military stance just outside the doorway on the landing pad, despite the fact that it was wide open.

"I am sorry to turn up unannounced," he said. "I do not have your comm details. I hope I am not disturbing you."

"Not at all," she replied. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I have come to say my goodbyes. The _Vengeance_ is leaving to the Outer Rim tonight. I should be back in seven months, when this tour of duty is over."

She pouted her lips. "Seven months?"

"It is not unusual for an Imperial Navy officer. But as I already told you once, it is nice to think that I will be missed."

She smiled. "Why don't you come in." She took a glass from the tray on the table of the Alderaanian conversation circle and waved him towards the workshop. "Let's sit in here. You don't mind if I work while we chat, do you?" She pulled a stool from under the table for him and wiped it with a piece of cloth, then poured two fingers of a thick white liquid in the glass and diluted it with water before offering it to him. "Wroshyr sap syrup," she said. "Ata' Messiri harvests it from the wall of our house." The questioning blue-black eyebrow inched upwards. "Our house on Kashyyyk is built inside the tree trunk. She just wedged a tap into the wall of the kitchen, and voila." He took a cautious sip. "Do you like it?"

"This is excellent. I must tell you that I have entirely reconsidered my view on Wookiees thanks to you. The description provided in the _Navy Handbook on Species_ does not remotely do them justice."

She sat down on the stool in front of the potter's wheel. The Fijisi wood bust of the faceless woman was gone, replaced by a chromed metallic sculpture that looked halfway between a fish and a spaceship. There was a childlike cheerfulness to it. She took a pair of pliers from the table and twisted gently the fin on the top, then picked a microwelder and a pair of goggles to adjust the welding.

Thrawn's gaze travelled from her hands to the mess on the table. There were several preliminary sketches of the sculpt under the tools that were spread around, together with books about crystals and the Rathalayan firestone. "You have been researching the carving of crystals," he said.

The tip of her tongue was sticking out of her lips, her face twisted in concentration as she scraped the traces of scoring off the metal fish-ship. "Yes," she answered finally. "I don't have much experience with crystals, so I need to train myself. I don't want to waste the wonderful present you gave me." She swivelled on her stool to look at the shelf behind her and selected one of the carefully catalogued tools before returning to her piece.

He looked at the sculpt she was working on. "So you work metal as well."

"Not very often. I tend to prefer materials that most sculptors don't consider noble. My favourite is wood, of course." There was the eyebrow again. "Living on Kashyyyk will do that to you," she added with a smile before carving a last notch in the fish-ship. She flipped a switch under the wheel and rotated her piece for Thrawn to see it from all angles. "What do you think? It's what I made for Matt Ruud."

Thrawn examined the sculpt carefully. "I take it that you had a good time with him."

"I did, actually. He's a very nice man and he has a wonderful sense of humour. And the fact that he's really cute doesn't hurt," she added with a grin. "If the Emperor is going to be organizing my dinner dates for me, I'd rather it not be with ugly vultures like Zaarin." She ran the tip of her finger over the fin. "Captain Ruud is from Kuat and he told me that when he was a kid, he would mess up the words 'fish' and 'ship'. This is just a toy, really, but it kind of matches his personality. And it does fulfil the 'something-to-remember-you-by' contract. Do you think he'll like it?"

"I am certain he will," Thrawn murmured.

There was something indefinable in his voice that made her look up at him. His slightly embarrassed smile caused her eyes to sparkle with mischief. "You'd like to have a present too, wouldn't you?" His smile turned sheepish, making her laugh. "Who said you won't? It should already be waiting for you in your quarters on your ship." She got up and started putting her tools away before turning back to him. "Please don't tell anyone. Technically I shouldn't have done this. I'm sure the Emperor knows, seeing as he always knows everything, but I'd rather not shout it from the rooftops."

Thrawn nodded and stood up. "To my great regret I must be going. I still have some packing to do. Thank you for the syrup, it was most refreshing." She escorted him to the door. He stopped on the landing pad and looked at her. "I wish you all the best for the coming months. Please do stay out of the vultures' way."

She smiled. "That I will, Captain. That I certainly will."

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><p>The young ensign set Thrawn's bag on the floor and turned back to face the Senior Captain. "The update on the status of the <em>Vengeance<em> is in the datapad on your desk, Sir," he said. "Lord Jerec will be waiting for your briefing in his private office in one-and-a-half hours. And this came for you this morning." He handed Thrawn a large parcel.

"Thank you, Mr. Washeeya. That will be all."

The ensign gave a crisp military salute and left. Thrawn set about unwrapping the parcel carefully. The spicy scent of Fijisi wood wafted in the room as the fine tissue paper fell to the floor, revealing the bust of the faceless, screaming woman. It was now shined and polished to perfection. He ran a finger over the shoulder to the only irregularity in the smooth surface, a small circle protruding on the shoulder blade, then lifted the sculpt to examine the markings carved around the base. They read: 'Ayesha Eskari of clan Vos, of the tribe of the Green Vines of Rwookrrorro.'


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks for the follow/fav, Cosara Peregringale and Tarnum1! How did you come up with these interesting user names?

Thank you for the review, dear anonymous reviewer :) As I said, this story updates every Monday and Thursday (barring strikes from Darth Real Life), so you'll hopefully never have to wait very long for the next post.

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><p><strong>Chapter 12: The diner<strong>

The first rays of the rising sun were barely filtering through Coruscant's clouded skies when Ayesha entered the small, 24-hour diner in Coco Town. She made her way to her favourite corner table and gave a start when she saw the man lounging on the bench hidden behind the booth panel. She came to stand across the table. "Hullo, stranger," she said with a wide grin. "Long time no see." Thrawn's glowing eyes darted up from the datapad he was studying. "You're up early," she added.

"My shuttle landed very late last night, or rather very early this morning," he replied in his cool, cultured voice. "I am not up, merely continuing my day. What is your excuse?"

She yawned. "The pangs of hunger. I skipped dinner last night and I didn't have enough for a decent breakfast at home." The droid waitress wheeled over. "Hello, Flo."

"Your usual caf, honey?" Flo asked.

"As strong as you've got. And please throw in a few of those mean doughnuts of yours. I need to put some sugar in the system."

"Sure," Flo said. "You joining the Capt' here?"

Ayesha turned her gaze to Thrawn. "I am sure no one from the Palace will see you having breakfast with me," he said with an engaging smile.

"I don't care about that anymore. Freedom is just around the corner, I have only twelve days to go." She slipped off her jacket and dropped it on a chair together with her satchel. Thrawn swung his legs off the bench to make space for her. She sat next to him. "I didn't expect to find you in this place."

"Neither did I," he countered. "How come you know this diner?"

"My uncle Quin was a regular. He was friends with the former owner. I came here with him when I was a kid." Flo brought her a mug of steaming black caf. She took a sip of the bitter liquid before looking at Thrawn again. "It's nice to see you," she finally said. "Seven months is a long time."

He smiled. "It is."

They gazed at each other for a moment before speaking at the same time to ask for each other's news. It made her laugh. "You first," she said. "After all, you're the one who left for all these exciting adventures in the Outer Rim."

"The Outer Rim and the Unknown Regions," he corrected. "I escorted High Inquisitor Jerec for a while, then transferred to the Star Destroyer _Admonitor_ for an exploration mission beyond the known Galaxy."

"So you weren't around when the Death Star blew Alderaan?"

He looked at her carefully. "Why do you think the Death Star was responsible for that?"

"I can put two and two together, Captain," she said tersely. "If the Rebellion really had the capacity to blow up planets as the HoloNet News would have us believe, I don't think you'd have time to chat about Gungan swamp clay with me." Her face softened. "I'm happy that you're safe. Truth be told I was a little worried. The shockwave must have been huge."

"It was indeed, but I was nowhere near it."

There was a silence. "So you've been exploring the Unknown Regions?" she asked.

"Yes, it was essentially a mapping expedition, albeit limited to the very edge of the known Galaxy. We identified some new worlds and collected data about their resources and technology."

"Expanding the Empire, uh? I don't suppose you brought any samples of art from those worlds."

His eyes twinkled. "I actually did. As a matter of fact" – he dug into his pocket, pulled out a datacard and inserted it in the datapad – "I expected you to ask this very question. I have already made a copy of the holos for you." His lips twitched at the surprise on her face. "I did learn a few things about your indecipherable psyche after all, Miss Eskari."

She took the datapad with undisguised eagerness and began flicking through the holographs. She vaguely thanked Flo when the waitress brought her a plate of glazed doughnuts and ate with one hand while handling the datapad with the other, zooming in and out of the pictures and asking Thrawn a myriad questions about the various works and the worlds they originated from. She returned again and again to one particular piece, a rough, spiky, egg-shaped sculpt made of an indefinable black material tinted with shades of red. "This is very unusual," she said finally, her eyes fixed on the screen. "Where did you say it's from?"

"A planet called Sernpidal, on the border between the Outer Rim and Wild Space. However, this is not the work of a native artist. I have not identified the species that created it yet, at least not with certainty."

She rotated the image. "There's something about this piece that makes me deeply uncomfortable." She sank into silence as she keyed forward to other, less disturbing images and finally looked up at Thrawn to see that he was staring at her, his eyes glowing with an unusual phosphorescence. She realized that she had been licking her sugary fingertips absent-mindedly and turned away in embarrassment to wipe them with a napkin.

"I think it is your turn to answer my questions now," Thrawn said. "How have you been?"

"The usual," she replied with a slight shrug. "Mostly working on my final exhibition. I got sidetracked a few times of course – most notably for a piece for the Imperial Opera Company, for the premiere of an opera called _The Agony of Tarkin_. I had to sit through the rehearsals, I never thought anyone could cook up such a heap of pompous bantha poodoo." Thrawn stifled a chuckle. "My exhibition is in twelve days, I need to make sure you get an invitation."

"I would be very grateful. Where will it be?"

"The preview for the Emperor and his guests is in my place, then it will be added to the permanent collection of the Galactic Museum." The blue-black eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Yes, it's another perk of the fellowship. I'm trying not to get too used to them, seeing as I'll have to start selling my art to make a living soon."

Thrawn smiled. "I have no doubt many art collectors will be interested."

She waved her hand. "I don't know and to be honest it doesn't matter to me so much right now. All I'm concerned about is surviving the coming two-and-a-half weeks and finally working my way out of indentured servitude to the Palace."

"I take it from your tone that the situation on the vulture front remains unpleasant."

She sighed. "Can being around Grand Admiral Zaarin ever not be unpleasant? But it's not as bad as before."

There was another silence. "I am told you have been seen quite often in the company of Captain Ruud, or rather Senior Captain Ruud," Thrawn finally said. She looked at him questioningly. "News travels fast in the Imperial Fleet, Miss Eskari, especially when it comes to pretty women and up-and-coming young captains favoured by His Majesty."

She grinned. "And here I thought that men don't gossip. Well, yes, it's true. I actually decided to follow your advice and not attend Palace functions on my own. Matt's nice, he's my age, give or take a few years, and as you said he has the Emperor's favour, so it gave me a measure of protection against the vultures, and the Emperor kind of stopped egging them on. And the fact that he was promoted didn't hurt. It made my life much easier and we've become quite close. Close friends," she added in response to a microscopic twitch of his eyebrow. "Believe it or not, I've been celibate for almost eight months now, and I can tell you that's a first for me."

Flo came around to collect the empty plates and refill their mugs with fresh caf. "What about your family?" he asked.

Sorrow washed over her face. "Ata' Messiri passed away. She became ill during the blockade – you know, after Alderaan – and it was too late for her when the blockade was lifted." Her eyes were welling up. Thrawn offered her a napkin to wipe the tear that was rolling down her cheek. "Thanks," she said with a small smile. "It was bound to happen anyway, she had this chronic condition, and at least we got to be there for her before... before she was gone. But it's just... Well, I miss her." She took a deep breath. "What about you? Did you get to visit your homeworld while you were in the Unknown Regions?"

"That is not possible for me anymore. As I told you I have been exiled." The glow in his eyes had become dull and he uncharacteristically avoided her gaze.

"It must be difficult," she said softly after a while. "Not to be able to go home."

"It is," he sighed. "Although after so many years I am not certain whether I should call it home anymore. It is rather about wondering what could have been."

They finished their caf in a heavy silence and Thrawn asked for the bill before offering to drop her back to her flat. She slipped a hefty tip to Flo on her way out. "Flo doesn't like bad tippers," she whispered conspiratorially as they climbed into his speeder. "And I want to make sure they keep making my doughnuts the way I like them."

The speeder landed on her pad a few minutes later. Thrawn stayed at the wheel while she climbed out. He pointed at a large bouquet of Ithorian roses in the middle of the platform. "It seems that you have a secret admirer."

She buried her face in the blue flowers and inhaled their scent deeply. "Oh, I think this is from a not-so-secret one." She detached the card from the bouquet. "Yup, I guessed it right. It's Matt asking me to be his date at the New Year Fete Ball next week."

Thrawn nodded, his face as impassive as ever. "I will see you at the Ball with Captain Ruud then."

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "You'll see me at the Ball, but not necessarily with Captain Ruud." The blue-black eyebrow travelled up. She shrugged casually. "Well, I don't know. Someone else could ask me to the Ball before I reply to Matt. You, for instance."

The second eyebrow joined the first for a second. He composed himself quickly. "Very well, Miss Eskari." He got out of the speeder and gave her a formal bow. "Will you do me the honour of allowing me to escort you to the New Year Fete Ball?"

"I will be delighted, Captain," she replied with a mock curtsey.

"I will pick you on New Year's Eve then," he said with a smile, and he began manoeuvring the speeder off the landing pad.

"Come early," she called after him. "We can have a glass of decent cortyg brandy before we go."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: The self-portrait**

Ayesha rushed through the atrium to answer the doorbell and came to a halt at the foot of the three steps leading up to the door. Thrawn was standing just outside the open transparisteel panel, looking very formal and elegant in his dress uniform. His glowing eyes swept over her. "You are beautiful," he said.

"You like it? I designed it myself, you know." She spun around gracefully, the luminous layers of her skirt's zoosha fabric flaring around her ankles to reveal high-heeled dance slippers. The off-the-shoulder, tight-fitting blouse enhanced the line of her neck under her new pixie haircut, and her arms were covered in matching opera gloves, contrasting with her bare midriff. There was a soft blush on her cheeks, she was positively glowing.

"Very much. Although I fear I will spend my evening keeping the vultures at bay."

She grimaced. "You're such a killjoy. Just ask Matt to give you a few tips, he's good at it." She ushered him in. "We have time for a drink."

The apartment was eerie. The furniture and decoration had been removed and replaced with statues and flats wrapped in white dust sheets. She led him to the high counter separating the kitchen from the dining area and poured two glasses of cortyg brandy. "Sorry about the mess," she said. "I started setting up for the exhibition, so it's all a bit chaotic."

The red eyes wandered around the ghostly shapes. "You made all this in the past seven months?"

"This and more. Some will be displayed in the hallway and the little lounge in the back."

"I cannot wait to see it," Thrawn said after taking in the room one more time. "Is there a theme to these works?"

She rolled her eyes. "Desire. The Emperor chose it. That was before he gave up on turning me into a Palace whore." Thrawn's eyes flashed but he remained silent. "I'm a bit concerned about the fact that these pieces are going to the Galactic Museum, you know. I'm not sure I want posterity to see me as the artist who poured all the contempt in her heart into her sculptures. But I just couldn't help myself when I thought of the vulture-in-chief."

He chuckled. "I have no doubt that there is much more to your sculptures than that."

She downed the last of her brandy. "I think we should get going. Let me grab my stole and earrings and I'm all set."

She went to walk away but he caught her wrist, placing a flat box in her palm. She looked at him curiously and opened it. Inside were a necklace and matching earrings of shimmering snow crystal threads encased in a glassy material that looked like molten ice. She stared at the jewels in wonder. "This is beautiful," she finally whispered. "I've never seen anything like it."

"A small gift for you from Csilla. I ordered it before my latest tour of duty. I was hoping to have it for the dedication of the Northern Lights room, but unfortunately it did not arrive in time. Or rather fortunately, I should say, since this is the perfect complement to your dress tonight."

He watched her put on the earrings and turn around for him to tie the necklace. She heard him suck in a breath as he fiddled with the clasp. His finger traced the curve of her shoulder and came to rest on a round scar on her shoulder blade. "I am so blind," he muttered.

She spun to face him again. "The Fijisi wood piece you gave me," he said uncertainly, "the bust of the screaming woman... is it a self-portrait?"

She held his phosphorescent gaze steadily. "Yes. And I didn't just give it to you, I made it for you."

They stared at each other a moment longer and suddenly they were kissing passionately, drinking life from each other as if their mouths were parched from a long trek in the desert. He wrapped his arms around her in a bone-crushing embrace while she cupped his head in her hands to pull him closer. The need for oxygen turned one kiss into several, and when they finally parted, the glow in his eyes was so intense that it made her turn crimson.

"We should go," she said with a timid smile. "The Emperor will have my head if I arrive late at the Ball."

She fetched her stole and walked with him to the landing pad. The sun was sinking under the Coruscant cityscape with glorious colours. He put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her again, demandingly, possessively, before he helped her into the speeder.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: Anakin Skywalker**

The ballroom of the Imperial Palace was glittering under the light of the chandeliers as hundreds of elegant men and women milled about the sumptuous hall. The Emperor's advisors and the Grand Admirals were already standing on the stage behind the throne, waiting for His Majesty to arrive. Thrawn led Ayesha to one of the tables on the far side of the room, where Senior Captains were to be seated. Many faces followed them as they wove their way through the crowd, mesmerized by the sight of the only alien officer of the Imperial Navy and the radiant woman who was holding his arm.

Laughing blue eyes greeted them when they finally reached a table in the far corner. "Captain Thrawn, sir," Matthias Ruud said with a crisp bow, "I should've known that you'd steal my date as soon as you got back."

Ayesha gave him a wry smile as she folded her stole on the back of a chair. "It's nice to see you too, Matt."

"And I believe there is no need for you to call me 'sir' anymore, Captain Ruud," Thrawn said in his even voice. "My congratulations for the promotion, I have not yet had the opportunity to present them to you in person." He let go of Ayesha for a moment to shake hands with Matt, then somehow made sure that her hand was once again warm on his arm.

"I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, sir," Ruud said, emphasizing the address. "I learned more from you in Carida than from all my other instructors put together. So you can forget about me not calling you 'sir', sir." He turned to Ayesha with a broad grin. "And the best part of it is that, because he's not a sir, he can't order me not to call him 'sir' anymore." She laughed. "So how are your preparations going?" he asked, changing the subject.

She shrugged. "Seven days to go and a million things to do. It's panic time."

"You poor thing. You didn't come to the Shaldania Parade this morning, did you?"

Her answer was cut short by three loud bangs announcing the Emperor's entrance. She dropped into a deep curtsey together with all the women in the room while the men bowed in unison. The Emperor made his way to the throne and gave a brief speech before finally announcing that the festivities had begun.

A middle-aged, rather nondescript Navy officer joined their little group and was introduced to Ayesha as Captain Firmus Piett. They were in the middle of inconsequential small talk when the three men stiffened to attention. She looked askance and saw that Darth Vader was standing at her side.

"You were a slave of Zygerria," he said without preamble. His gloved finger was pointed at the brand scar on her shoulder blade.

She swallowed. "Yes, My Lord." Captain Piett gave her a startled look.

"When were you freed?"

"It was in the second year of the Clone Wars, My Lord. During the Auction of a Million Souls." Darth Vader's black mask nodded, prompting her to say more. She bowed her head as her voice became a whisper. Captain Piett leaned closer to listen despite himself. "I was a child at the time, I was being trained to become a dance slave, and my owner..."

"Your master?" Captain Piett interjected.

She raised her chin and gave him a fiery glare. "He was my owner, not my master, Captain," she hissed fiercely. "He may have owned my body but he never, ever mastered my soul."

Piett took a step back. "You are right, of course, Miss Eskari," he mumbled contritely. "Please accept my most sincere apologies, I did not intend to offend you."

She stared at him for a moment, until Thrawn gently touched her hand to remind her that Darth Vader was waiting. "My owner was trying to sell me to the Zygerrian queen. I was in her throne room in the palace and I was chained in a corner. I was being punished because I had been headstrong." She took a deep breath. "An old man, I believe he was the Separatist leader, had a big argument with the queen. He swept her guards away and strangled her with his mind. And then the Jedi came. He simply raised his hand and the old man flew in the air and crashed against the wall. The Jedi tried to heal the queen but she was already dying. And then he saw me. I was cowering in my corner and crying, I was so scared." An eerie smile floated over her face. "The Jedi waved his hand and my chains clattered to the ground. That moment... it was like seeing the sun for the very first time." She paused and steadied herself. "And he told me to run. I hadn't even made it to the door when a bald woman sprang in from the landing pad and assaulted him with two lightsabers. The old man came to and attacked him as well. He was battling both of them at once, the red and blue flashes of their lightsabers were flaring in all directions. It was like being caught in the middle of a firestorm, it was the most terrifying and the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. They were going to overpower him when he leapt out of the window to escape. I was crying so hard that I passed out. Later, other Jedi and clone troopers came and took me and they brought me to Coruscant. And that... that is what happened."

Only Darth Vader's mechanical breathing could be heard over the ballroom hubbub as the three Navy officers stood in stunned silence. "Did you ever find out the name of the Jedi?" Matt asked.

Ayesha shook her head. Darth Vader finally spoke. "His name was Anakin Skywalker." And without another word, he turned around and strode away, leaving Ayesha pale and trembling, clinging on to Thrawn's arm for dear life.

"I think you should sit down, My Lady," Captain Piett said. There was deep respect in his voice.

She lowered herself into a chair and a glass of wine materialized in her hand. She was still trying to pull herself together when a young ensign came to fetch Thrawn, saying that the Emperor was requesting his presence. Concern crept into his gaze; he had not taken his eyes off her since Darth Vader had appeared at her side. She waved him away. "I'm fine," she said. "Don't keep the Emperor waiting." Thrawn's glowing eyes moved to Matt. A nod of understanding passed between the two men, and he turned on his heel and left.

Matt crouched next to Ayesha. "You never told me this."

"Of course I never did. It takes the threat of Lord Vader's wrath for me to talk about it." Her tone was terse and wry at the same time. Piett gave an embarrassed smile but relaxed as Matt's infectious laughter caught upon him. He soon warmed to the conversation. He had served with several Jedi as a young officer during the Clone Wars and regaled Ayesha and Matt with tales of deeds so astounding that they often had to ask him if he was pulling their leg. Ayesha had recovered now and was listening to him with great interest when she caught a glimpse of a white uniform in the distance. The piece of music performed by the orchestra was coming to an end and Grand Admiral Zaarin was bowing to the woman he had been dancing with and edging their way. She tugged Matt's sleeve and pointed her chin fractionally.

"Captain Piett, will you do Miss Eskari a favour?" Matt asked.

Piett nodded. "Anything."

"You just remembered that you have something very important to tell to Grand Admiral Zaarin and you're going to keep him as far away from here as possible for as long as possible." Piett gave him a knowing look – Zaarin's predatory attitude towards women was legendary in the Palace. He bowed deeply to Ayesha and walked away in long strides, catching the Grand Admiral before he could leave the dance floor and engaging him in an animated conversation as he casually steered him to the other side of the ballroom.

Matt turned to Ayesha. "You have a new ally," he said with a grin. "Knowing him, he'll never forgive himself for that blunder and he'll bend over backwards for you. You okay now?" She nodded. He pulled her to her feet. "Then I get to steal a dance or more before that dashing blue Captain of yours comes back." And he swept her to the dance floor.

Matt was a very good dancer. She lost herself to the music as they weaved in and out of the crowd, her layered skirt flaring around her legs to reveal her small feet flying over the ground. Matt's running commentary on the various people swinging around them made her laugh and the soft blush was back on her cheeks when the corner of her eye finally caught a blur of pale blue and glowing red on the edge of the dance floor.

The last notes of the Alderaanian waltz were fading away when the lights suddenly went off and the transparisteel panels on the wall slid open. The crowd applauded politely as fireworks blossomed in the skies of Coruscant to signal the passage of the New Year. Matt pulled her closer with the arm that was still wrapped around her waist and planted a long kiss on her temple. "Happy New Year, little woman," he whispered in her ear. "May it bring you the love and joy you so deserve."

Thrawn looked on impassively as they made their way to him and gave them a curt nod when they finally came to a halt. Matt complimented Ayesha on her dancing and took off to catch up with some friends who were waving at him. The red eyes followed him in a long, hard stare as he walked away, then returned to Ayesha.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked after a moment.

"I am not sure," he answered, tilting his head slightly to the side in an unspoken question.

She looked at him in puzzlement until the orchestra struck up a new tune. It was a duple-step from Corellia. "Aren't you going to invite me to dance?" she asked to break the awkward silence. "You're my date tonight, you know," she reminded him with a small grin.

Without a word he took her hand and led her to the dance floor. The music picked up pace as they moved through the steps of the dance, sometimes together, sometimes apart, never taking their eyes off each other. She was flying now, defying gravity, her feet barely brushing the polished floor as she circled and twirled and bowed around him like the winds of a storm unleashed. She raised her arms gracefully to the ceiling and brought her hands down around his head, as if to pull him into a kiss. His face was millimetres from hers when he caught her waist and pushed her in a deep back bend, her frame arching over his knee, one hand warm between her shoulders and the other on the swell of her hip as the music faded away.

Thunderous applause echoed across the ballroom and Ayesha realized that they were alone in the middle of the dance floor. She blushed crimson and gave Thrawn a shy curtsey as he pulled her up and escorted her to the side of the room. The Emperor's yellow eyes followed them from the throne and she could feel the weight of hundreds of stares as they reached their table. Before she knew it, Grand Admirals Zaarin and Tigellinus were standing in front of her, asking her for a dance.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible tonight, gentlemen," she said politely but firmly. "It is already past midnight and, as you both know, I have a rather busy week ahead."

Thrawn placed her stole over her shoulders and offered his arm again, standing tall and regal in front of the two admirals. She heard Zaarin mutter something about cheap sluts and uppity aliens to Tigellinus as they walked away, and turned around to give him a look of utter contempt. To her great satisfaction, she saw that several younger officers were also staring at him with expressions ranging from disappointment to loathing.

They flew back to her flat in silence. She slipped her hand in Thrawn's as he helped her out of the speeder and led her to the door. He gazed at her with his glowing eyes and suddenly pulled her in a tight embrace. His tongue explored every corner of her mouth until he finally let her go.

"I should leave," he said.

"No," she whispered, pulling him inside. "You should stay."


	15. Chapter 15

Thanks for the reviews sandcat118! "Artistically done" is the highest praise I could hope for :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 15: The colour of sunshine<strong>

The buzz of the comm unit pulled Ayesha out of the kitchen. She ran to the small desk in the corner of the dining area and keyed it on. A quarter-size holo of Matt Ruud materialized in front of her. He was grinning widely. "Looks like I'm dragging you out of bed," he said.

She yawned. "Not quite. I had my first cup of caf already. How are you doing?"

"I'm good. I was just calling to check on you. I didn't see you leave last night after that fine display of talent on the dance floor."

She snorted. "No wonder you didn't see me, you were chatting with that gorgeous woman from the Emperor's inner circle. The dancer with the red-gold hair. She had you completely enthralled."

He smiled teasingly. "Jealous?"

"Curious," she countered. "I like to keep track of Palace gossip."

He laughed. "I thought I counted for more than a random bit of gossip, but it seems I shouldn't get my hopes up."

Her face softened. "You know you should," she said, then added, "I had a very nice time dancing with you last night. Thank you."

He grinned. "That's good to know. I'll let you finish waking up then."

She switched off the comm and went to return to the kitchen when she saw that Thrawn had emerged from the hallway at the other end of the room and was looking at her. He had slipped on his dress uniform trousers and his undershirt and was carrying his jacket on his arm. She skipped between the draped statues to come and stand in front of him. "Happy New Year."

His eyes were phosphorescent as they swept over her. She was wearing a very thin, floor-length nightdress that draped gracefully over her frame, enhancing the swell of her hips under her waist. The wide neckline was falling slightly off one shoulder and the bulge of her breasts stretched the soft fabric, revealing the darker circle of her nipples. Even tousled and unkempt, she exuded sensuality from every pore of her being. Thrawn hesitated. "I should be going," he said finally.

She pouted her lips. "Do you have to? You can't be working today, it's New Year Fete." He hesitated again. She tugged his hand. "Come on, I baked spice buns for breakfast."

She had barely taken a step towards the kitchen when he flung his arms around her shoulders and brought his mouth crashing on hers. His tongue pressed against her lips, demanding to be let in, and his hands ran up and down her body hungrily. She was blushing when they parted but there was a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. "That's better," she said with a satisfied grin. "Come on now, I'm starving."

She pulled a stool from under the kitchen table for him and he sat with his back to the wall, watching her as she pottered around. She pulled a tray of spice buns from the oven and laid out various jars on the table. "This one is wasaka berry jam and that one is chyntuck chutney. Wookiee food," she added in answer to his raised eyebrow. "The rest you should know." She poured them both a mug of caf and a glass of wroshyr sap syrup and sat down.

She ate ravenously while Thrawn stared at her, his mug seemingly forgotten in his hand. His expression was unreadable and he glanced away several times when she looked up at him. "Is there something wrong?" she asked after a while. He shook his head. She studied his face for a moment. "Then why are you acting so awkward?"

There was a long silence. "I believe I might have made a mistake coming here," he said finally.

She blinked at him. "Is this the part where you tell me about the wife and three children you never mentioned before?"

His eyes blazed. "No," he snapped. "Of course not."

"Then why are you talking about this being a mistake?"

He sighed. "Because you were in considerable distress yesterday after that conversation with Lord Vader. Because your chat today with Captain Ruud shows me that you came home with the wrong man. Because I claimed to protect you from the vultures but given the opportunity I behaved like one of them. You do not need a man who is old enough to be your father, alien and radically different. I took advantage of you last night and for that I apologize."

She stared at him for a moment. "You really have no idea, do you?" she asked.

Puzzlement was plainly written on his face when he looked at her.

She got up and came to stand between his knees, cupped his head in her hands and kissed him fiercely.

He went to speak when she pulled back but she shut him up with a finger on his lips.

She looked at him straight in the eyes. "Forget about being ridiculously gentlemanly and listen to me now," she said firmly. "I'm not a damsel in distress and I can make my choices. And my choice is you. I've wanted you virtually from the moment you carried that bucket of clay for me in the Palace and now I don't need to hide anymore because freedom is around the corner. So don't tell me about being older or alien or different, or about Matt Ruud or any other such nonsense. This is what I want. You didn't take advantage of me, you're not a vulture, and if you are... well, I'll take what is given."

Before he could think of an answer, she kissed him again. He surrendered to her pull and began kissing her back, his hands wandering up her hips. Their caresses became frantic, one thing brought another and some time later they were lying in bed again, drenched in sweat and panting in unison as spent passion and lust washed over them.

He entwined himself around her and brushed his lips on her hair. "Ayoo'sha," he breathed. "Ayoo'sha Ayesha."

She snuggled her face in his neck. "What does it mean?"

"Ayoo'sha? It is one of the colours of sunshine in Cheunh. Specifically, the reflection of sunshine on a fresh snowfield."

He felt her smile. "I imagine you have many words for snow in your language."

He chuckled. "We do. Cheunh is a very rich language when it comes to anything related to the cold. We need to describe our environment, after all."

"Can you say it again?"

He leaned closer and murmured, "Ayoo'sha." His breath was warm on her ear.

"It sounds nice," she whispered. "I like the music of it."

"So do I. It is also an apt description of you." He pulled back and lifted her face with his fingertips. "It was the first word that popped into my mind when you told me your name. You shine so brightly that it is difficult to see anything else when you are in the room, even when you are covered in mud."

She rolled on her back to hide her blush at the strange compliment and settled comfortably against his shoulder. "I want to know more about your homeworld. Tell me about it."

A single blue finger trailed from the hollow of her neck to her little bump of tummy fat. "I will if you tell me more about you."

She swatted his hand away. "Not fair. I asked first."

He caught her hand in his and kissed her palm. His lips lingered on a wrinkled scar on her wrist. "I answered one of your questions, Ayoo'sha. It is only justice that you answer one of mine."

She stretched in his embrace. "Okay, fair enough, I guess. What do you want to know?"

His fingertips were grazing her belly again. "Tell me what happened after the Jedi brought you to Coruscant."

She stretched again and sighed. "Nothing. I was on my own for a while."

He lifted his head slightly to glance at her. "At the age of seven?"

"There was no one to look after me," she countered with a slight shrug. "The Jedi didn't know what to do with a nameless orphan. I had to fend for myself, so I went to the Underlevels."

This time he pushed himself up on his elbow to look at her. "You were on your own in the Underlevels of Coruscant as a child?"

She shrugged again. "There were lots of other street younglings down there. It felt like the right place to go. I didn't want to be alone." He was eyeing her curiously with his raised eyebrow. "What?"

He lay back on the pillow. "I visited the Underlevels many years ago, when I joined the Empire. The least I can say is that it is a difficult place to be."

"It is," she replied with a sigh. "But it's also a space of freedom."

His head jerked up again. "I have said this before and it seems I will say it many times again. You have a unique way of looking at things." He gazed at her for a moment. "What happened next?"

She glanced up at him. "You're really curious, you know?"

"Tell me," he insisted. "I want to know how the little escapee from Zygerria became this extraordinary woman I am holding."

She blushed a little. "I stayed in the Underlevels for a few months and somehow eked out a living, until I was found by a woman named Khaleen Hentz. She was my Uncle Quin's lover."

"Is that the uncle who introduced you to the little diner where we had breakfast?"

She smiled. "Yes, Quinlan Vos. He took me there on the first day I met him, I was so hungry."

There was a pause. "Is he your mother's brother?" Thrawn asked.

She shook her head. "He's not really my uncle, we're just from the same clan on Kiffu, but I needed someone to call family at the time. He's the one who named me, after some distant common ancestor. He was a Jedi too, you know," she added with a hint of pride in her voice.

"What was a Jedi doing having a lover in the Underlevels?"

"I'm not sure. He was on some sort of secret mission for the Jedi Council. I never really found out." She shrugged. "Anyway, Khaleen took me in when she saw my Qukuuf." She pointed at the yellow line on her cheekbone. "Uncle Quin has a similar one so she assumed there was some connection there. After a while they left me with Old Dex until my grandfather came to take me to Kiffu. Old Dex was the owner of the diner."

There was another pause. "So you went to Kiffu after all," Thrawn prompted. "I thought you never lived there."

"I did. I stayed there for three years."

There was a catch in her voice that made him look at her again. "What is it?" He pressed when she didn't answer. "Did something happen to you on Kiffu?"

"There... there was a conflict between the clans," she breathed finally, struggling to steady her voice. "They fought about whom to side with in the Clone Wars. It was not a good place to be." Her eyes had taken a glassy, unfocused texture, there was a haunted expression on her face and her heart was beating hard under Thrawn's fingers.

"Calm yourself, Ayoo'sha," he murmured, pressing gentle lips to her forehead. "You do not need to talk about these things if they upset you so much." He rubbed her chest with the flat of his hand as if to steady her heartbeat, bringing her out of the trance-like state that was threatening to overcome her, and rested his head against hers. "Tell me instead how you went to Kashyyyk."

She took a deep breath. "My grandfather's health was failing and he couldn't take care of me anymore. Kiffu wasn't safe for me so he took me to Kashyyyk after the end of the Clone Wars."

"Why Kashyyyk? From what I know of the history of that period, it was not a safe place to be either."

"Uncle Quin was one of the generals leading the Army of the Republic during the battle against the Separatists there. Ada' Yakooboo had a life-debt to him, so my grandfather thought he would protect me."

"And your adoptive father transferred this life-debt to you?" Thrawn asked.

"No," she said with powerful emotion in her voice. "Ada' Yakooboo took me as his daughter."

There was a long silence. Thrawn propped himself up on his elbow, his head resting in his hand, his glowing eyes fixed on hers. "You love your Wookiee family very much," he finally said.

She nodded. "I do. I owe them everything. I wouldn't be a person without them."

Thrawn gazed at her silently. "What about your uncle?"

"He disappeared during the Great Jedi Purge. They say he died."

He leaned to kiss her forehead again. She looked up at him and reached to caress his face. A ray of sunshine filtering through the blinds was shimmering in his blue-black hair. "So that's my story," she said with a small smile. "Now we should get up. It's a shame to stay indoors on such a nice day."

His lips brushed hers as his fingers inched teasingly up her ribs. He felt her shiver under his touch. "Are you sure that you want to get up?" he murmured in her neck.

She grinned. "Okay," she said. "Maybe not."

He finally left early the next morning to return to the Palace. She escorted him to the landing pad and returned his kiss. "I need you to disappear from my life for the next six days, I really have to work," she said. "But I'll be expecting you for the exhibition. I want to spend my first night out of indentured servitude with you," she added with a smile.

He smiled back. "What about the night after that?"

"We'll make it up as we go along," she replied airily. He pulled her to him again for another deep, languid kiss. His hands were creeping up her waist. She gave a throaty laugh. "Keep that up and there won't be an exhibition to talk about. Now go." She pushed him to his speeder. "Oh, one more thing." There was that sparkle of mischief in her eyes. "You may want to bring a change of clothes. Unless you really want the entire Palace to wonder why you're going around in your dress uniform so early in the morning."


	16. Chapter 16

Thank you for the follow/fav, thegman95!

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><p><strong>Chapter 16: Desire<strong>

Thrawn climbed out of his speeder and handed the ignition chip to a valet droid who flew it away to make space for the next vehicle. He made his way to the open transparisteel door and peered inside. Some two dozen guests had already arrived and were ambling around the now-unveiled statues and flats. Ayesha was standing nervously in the place where the Twi'lek Dancer was normally to be found, wearing a knee-length, sleeveless orange tunic made of stiff, embroidered brocade and wide-legged silkweed blue trousers that matched the long, thin scarf falling down her back. Thrawn walked to her and greeted her with a formal bow, then handed her a small travel bag.

"The items you requested, Miss Eskari," he said with a twinkle of his eyes.

She gave him a curious look and peeked inside the bag. Her whole body relaxed and her face broke into a mischievous smile when she caught a glimpse of the sleeve of an undershirt and the collar of a Navy uniform. "Thank you very much, Captain," she replied, matching his formal tone. She hailed the protocol droid who was serving drinks and tasked him with putting the bag away, then turned her attention back to the landing pad.

The next guest was reaching the door, a stern-looking woman dressed in somewhat old-fashioned robes. The stiffness of her gait and the bright white of her hair betrayed her years but her eagle eyes were sparkling with life as she took in the room. Ayesha ran to her and held both of her hands, bowing deeply to kiss them. "Master Nazmat," she said. "I'm so happy you could come."

The old lady pulled her up and caressed her cheek, her stern face softening into a smile. "Not as much as I am, my dear child. Not nearly as much as I am." Her eyes swept the room again and came to rest on Thrawn before returning to Ayesha with a knowing look. "Aren't you going to introduce me to the gentleman who is devouring you with his stare?"

Ayesha blushed like a schoolgirl and helped the elderly lady down the steps to lead her to Thrawn. She was walking with great difficulty but steadied herself as she came to stand in front of him and held out a gloved hand regally. Thrawn bowed to kiss it and Ayesha introduced him to Nazmat Koch. "Master Nazmat was my mentor in the Academy of Fine Arts. She taught me everything I know."

Thrawn nodded deferentially as Nazmat Koch snapped off her elbow-length gloves. "Being taught by Nazmat Koch certainly is a privilege," he said in his cultured voice. "I greatly admire your work, particularly your urban landscapes. You must be very proud of your student."

"I am not proud, I am humbled, Captain," Nazmat Koch said sharply. "And it is entirely inaccurate to call Ayesha my student. I learned more from her than she will ever learn from me. I have been teaching young people since the days of the Old Republic but I had never seen such talent until she came along."

Ayesha blushed again, with pleasure this time, and went to mumble something when the old woman staggered on her feet and caught her arm. "Master Nazmat," she said with concern in her voice, "are you alright? Should I bring you a chair?"

Nazmat Koch swatted her with her gloves. "Hush, young lady. There is a handsome man listening to us and I have a reputation to keep."

Thrawn's lips twitched and Ayesha laughed as she glanced at the landing pad again. The Emperor's shuttle had arrived and was disgorging the usual entourage of courtiers, advisors and Grand Admirals. Darth Vader's massive silhouette emerged, followed by the Emperor's black cloak. She turned back to her Master apologetically.

"Off you go, child," Nazmat Koch said. "I am certain Captain Thrawn will be kind enough to show me around."

Ayesha trotted back to the foot of the steps and dropped into a deep curtsey in front of the Emperor. She gave another curtsey to Darth Vader and greeted politely the rest of her guests, then put her hands behind her back and escorted the little troupe around the room. She answered their questions with practised ease and accepted compliments graciously, taking care to place herself one step behind the Emperor and Darth Vader as they edged their way towards the flats on the wall of the dining area.

"She did learn at least one thing from me," Nazmat Koch said proudly as her eyes followed Ayesha across the room. "Manners," she added in response to Thrawn's cocked eyebrow. "For all the good her Wookiee education did to her, it had not prepared her for polite society." The protocol droid came to them with two snifters of cortyg brandy on a tray. "Of course," she added, taking one of the glasses and inhaling the liquor's fumes deeply, "there are some advantages to a Wookiee upbringing, such as an exquisite taste in alcoholic beverages. I cannot understand for the life of me why anyone would choose such a watery drink as sparkling wine when fine brandy is at hand. Can you, Captain?"

Thrawn was struggling hard now to stifle a laugh. He saw the Emperor's entourage coming back towards them, freeing the room for other visitors, and offered his arm to Nazmat Koch. "Shall we?"

They weaved their way around the various sculptures in the middle of the room. Ayesha had chosen sparkling, milky chalcedony to create several pieces that suggested the elongated, twisted shape of a woman's body under a thin, misty veil. The flats on the wall were made of a heavier Hapan basalt, this one dark grey in colour, their polished surface revealing only the ghosts of square jaws and avid hands in the elaborate lighting pattern illuminating them.

The flats acquired volume as Thrawn and Nazmat Koch came around the room and edged through the hallway. The ghostly faces became ominous and the palms pressed hungrily out of the surfaces. The exhibition ended in a private lounge in the back of the apartment. A single, life-size statue occupied the middle of the room. The white, misty shape of a naked body was lying on a horizontal slab that may have been a bed or a sacrificial altar. The woman's abnormally long limbs were contorted, her hair streaming down to the floor, her back arching as if in lust or intense pain. On the back wall, dominating the statue from above, the shadow of a face could be made out on a shiny grey flat, with sharp fingers in relief clawing their way through the veil.

Thrawn's eyes were the colour of molten lava when he led Nazmat Koch to the balcony running along the back of the apartment and helped her into a chair. The old lady gazed at the cityscape for a long moment.

"Well, that was vintage Ayesha," she said finally in her sharp tone. "That girl always had a way of attracting the wrong sort of attention from the wrong sort of men." Thrawn clenched his jaw and remained silent. Nazmat Koch's voice became pensive and tinged with regret. "I was merely hoping to help her launch the career she so richly deserves when I put her name down for that fellowship. I knew that the Palace would be a difficult environment, but I did not expect this. I see now that I made a rather large error in judgement." She slipped on her gloves and held out her hand for Thrawn to help her stand up. She stared at him with her beady eyes before taking his proffered arm. "You had better take good care of her, young man," she said sternly. "I have known Palpatine since before you were born and I would hate to see that old mynock and his swarm ruin her image of the male persuasion forever."

Ayesha was in her workshop, standing behind the Emperor as he observed the preliminary sketches of her works that were displayed on the partition panel she'd set up to hide the jumble of sculpts stored in the back of the room, when she saw Thrawn walking Nazmat Koch to the door. "May I ask for your indulgence for a few minutes, Your Majesty," she said. "Master Nazmat is leaving and I would very much like to say goodbye to her." She took over from Thrawn at the foot of the steps and helped her Master to the landing pad.

A platform slid out of the side of the old lady's speeder and hoisted her in the passenger seat. "I am sorry I put you through such an ordeal, my dear child," she said. "But given the man you chose for yourself, I can see that it did not break your beautiful spirit." She nodded at her driver, ignoring Ayesha's perplexed look, and the speeder took off into the night.

The Emperor's entourage was coming out on the landing pad and Ayesha spent another ten minutes bowing and curtseying until they were gone. A few visitors who were still lingering in the gallery, Matt Ruud among them, offered her their compliments before leaving as well, followed by the protocol droids she had hired for the evening. Thrawn was nowhere to be seen. She slipped off her high-heeled shoes with a sigh of relief, activated the housekeeping droid and set out looking for him. She went from one room to another until she finally found him in her bedroom. He had taken off his uniform jacket and was sitting in the dark on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, his bowed head in his hands. "Is there something wrong?" she asked from the doorframe.

He looked up at her. His eyes were still swirling with liquid fire. "Why did you not tell me, Ayoo'sha? Why did you not tell me how bad it truly was?"

She gave him a puzzled look. "What didn't I tell you?"

He leapt up and strode across the room to her. "This!" he thundered, gesturing towards the sculpts beyond the hallway. His voice was a mingle of anguish and fury. "This. The theme of this exhibition was to be desire, and you came up with this? What happened to you in your three years in the Palace?"

She shrugged indifferently. "Does it matter? It was just harassment by a group of lecherous old men. I've seen worse in my life, you know. Besides, I can take care of myself. I have two Wookiee brothers, remember?" His eyes were blazing at her. She held out her hand and laid it flat on his chest. "Calm down. I'm out of that hellish place. We're here now."

He took a deep breath, visibly struggling to keep his temper in check. "You should have told me," he said finally. "You have known me for nearly a year. Had I been aware that things were so out of hand, I would have found a way to protect you."

She looked at him straight in the eyes. "I don't need you to protect me, Thrawn. I need you to love me."

He pulled her in a bone-crushing embrace and brought his mouth on hers so hard that she could feel his teeth grinding against hers. His hands were frantic on her back, tugging clumsily at her tunic behind her neck, half-strangling her as his trembling fingers failed to find the clasp. "Calm down, Qubshi be-khadeeb, calm down," she whispered with bewilderment in her voice. "I'm not going to vanish. You don't need to hurt me to ascertain that I'm here."

He took a step back and inhaled another deep breath. "I should leave. I fear that I may cause you harm. I do not want to take out my anger on you."

She stared at him for a moment. "Oh, I don't think so," she replied, and with surprising strength she pushed him to the bed and threw him flat on his back with a single, quick sweep of her heel behind his legs. She fell over him and threaded her fingers through his, pinning his hands to the mattress. She grinned at the astonished expression that flickered across his face. "As I told you, I can take care of myself reasonably well," she murmured, her mouth millimetres from his. "Living on Kashyyyk has got to count for something. Besides, I need you to spot the differences between a free woman and a woman in servitude, so now just sit back and enjoy."


	17. Chapter 17

Thank you for the follow/fav, Regin and Zexs!

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><p><strong>Chapter 17: Old Kiffar<strong>

Thrawn found Ayesha in the kitchen the next morning. She had slipped out of bed at some point during the night and had draped the dust sheets over the sculpts, but the blaze of molten lava was returning to his eyes as he glanced over the high counter separating the kitchen from the dining area. She held out a hand to his chin and gently returned his face towards her.

"What are you up to today?" she asked to make conversation.

He took the proffered mug of caf. "I will spend most of my time in meetings. They may last until quite late. How about you?"

"The Museum people are coming to collect this junk and then I want to put the furniture back in place." She yawned. "And then, I want to get some sleep this afternoon. My friends are coming over for drinks tonight, we've planned this for a long time and I want to be in a fit state to enjoy my evening with them. Will you join us? I think you'll like them." He glanced at her uncertainly. She laughed. "I never thought you to be the shy type."

"I am not," he said a little stiffly.

She laughed again. "Don't worry, it'll be completely informal. Just turn up whenever you're out of your meetings. You don't want to leave my bed empty, I might find someone else to fill it," she added with a teasing smile, and she got up to clear the empty dishes.

He leaned back against the wall behind him and watched her potter around the sink. "What does Qubshi be-khadeeb mean?" he asked after a while.

She spun around. "Where did you hear that?"

"You called me that last night." She gave him a puzzled look. "When I was trying to, shall we say, strangle you," he added with a hint of embarrassment. "What does it mean?"

"It's Old Kiffar." The blue-black eyebrow crawled up on his forehead. "The language of the Kiffu Guardians. It's my mother tongue."

The eyebrow travelled further up. "What does it mean?" he repeated.

"I can't tell you that, Thrawn. Old Kiffar is a secret language. Only the Guardians may speak it." The second eyebrow joined the first; he was clearly thinking that she was pulling his leg. She came to stand in front of him, cupped his face in her hands and looked at him very seriously. "I'm not joking. Old Kiffar really is a secret language and I will never translate any of it for you. There are rules."

There was a pause. "I never thought you one to follow rules," he prompted.

She returned to the sink with a sigh. "In this case, I know far too well the consequences of defying them."

He stared at her for a long moment. "Are you a Guardian?"

She rounded on him with what might have been fury if it weren't for the haunted expression on her face. "No," she said angrily. "My mother was one and I don't want to talk about it. Now will you please drop the subject?"

He held her gaze curiously for a few seconds before answering, "All right. I will drop it for now."

"No," she snapped. "You will drop it forever." Her eyes had taken that glassy texture and her hands were trembling violently as she tried to collect the mugs from the kitchen table.

He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her belly. "Fine, Ayoo'sha, fine, I will drop it forever. Now please calm yourself. I did not mean to upset you. I was merely curious and it got the better of me." He held her snugly, murmuring soothingly in Cheunh as if trying to appease a frightened animal, the warmth of his breath filtering through the thin fabric of her nightdress until he felt the tension drain away from her. Concern was written all over his usually cool face when he finally looked up. "I must go. Will you be alright?"

She nodded and walked him to the landing pad. He took her shoulders in his hands to hold her at arm's length and gazed at her again. "I am so sorry, Ayoo'sha. It seems I always find a way to cause you some sort of distress despite my best intentions. Please forgive me."

She waved a shaky hand. "You're already forgiven. But," she added, the sparkle of mischief returning to her eyes, "you should definitely come back tonight, just to make sure I didn't change my mind."

He observed her a moment longer, his head slightly tilted to one side as if he were seeking to decipher some unfathomable mystery, and then he was gone.


	18. Chapter 18

Thank you for the follow/fav, FluffytehMuffin and GandalfsTruth! I'm posting a bit earlier than usual (although technically it's already Monday over here, so I am within my planned schedule) because I'm going to have a very long and busy day when the sun rises.

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><p><strong>Chapter 18: Tam <strong>

When Thrawn came back late in the evening and waited outside the open transparisteel door after ringing the bell, the apartment had mostly returned to its original state. The art gallery was gone and the Alderaanian conversation circle, the dining table and the Twi'lek Dancer were back in their place. The lights were on but the room was deserted. Ayesha came bouncing barefoot down the hallway, wearing one of her no-nonsense tank top and baggy trouser outfits. She leapt up the three steps leading to the door and planted a long kiss on his mouth, her tongue darting teasingly between his lips. She smiled at his cocked eyebrow. "That was just to let you know that I didn't change my mind since this morning," she said. "Come in, we're sitting in the back, it's more comfortable. The conversation circle is nice to look at but it's a bit stuffy."

There was a piercing wail in the hallway and they turned around to see a toddler lying flat on his face on the floor. She went and lifted the child in her arms. "This is Tam," she told Thrawn. "He's my best friend's son and I'm his namegiver, so you want to be nice to him." She looked back at the little boy, who had stopped crying and was staring at Thrawn with big, round eyes. "Tammy, this is Thrawn. I love him very much and I hope you will love him too." Thrawn's eyebrows shot up in surprise at this last sentence but she didn't pay attention. She tugged his hand instead and led him to the private lounge.

The small room was furnished with a simple but cushy U-shaped sofa and a low table. A single painting – one of Nazmat Koch's Coruscant cityscapes – hung from the wall where the ominous grey stone flat had been the previous evening. Ayesha introduced Thrawn to Tashi, a pretty female Sullustan sporting a bright red mohawk, and a Dug called Mabalsa – "but everyone calls him Onion, so you may want to go along with it" – who was lounging on a cushion on the floor near a jar of pickled gorgs. Lamtee and Dacco, two handsome male Zeltrons with shiny pink skin, were holding hands on the left side of the sofa, while Tam's parents, Kal and Mira, were sitting in the back. Kal was a short man with an unruly beard and a shaggy mane. Mira was a petite woman with a kind face, but she had the regal demeanour and eagle eyes of Nazmat Koch. "Mira is Master Nazmat's granddaughter," Ayesha said as she finished the round of introductions. She put Tam on the floor next to the Dug. The boy staggered to his feet and started playing with the equine alien's facial tendrils.

Thrawn lowered himself on the sofa to Mira's left. "I had the honour of meeting your grandmother yesterday," he said, his voice very cultured and formal.

Tashi's dewflaps retracted as she grinned from ear to ear. "And you survived to tell the tale?"

Thrawn's lips twitched and Kal gave him a wry look. "It's okay, Capt', you can say out loud what we all think. Everyone knows that my grandmother-in-law is a bit of a character."

"Indeed," Thrawn said with a twinkle of his eyes. "I must say that no one had called me 'young man' in quite a long time. Nor had I ever heard anyone describe the Imperial Court as a swarm of mynocks."

They all burst out laughing and with that, the ice was broken. Ayesha served another round of drinks and snacks and sat next to Thrawn with her legs tucked under her, and the conversation resumed.

They had all met as students in the Imperial Academy of Fine Arts, except Mira, who was an engineer, and the Dug, who was a self-taught artist. He engaged in a heated dialogue with Tashi about the use of recycled materials. She preferred to roam the junkyards to find discarded pieces of machinery, whereas he liked to collect random bits of waste from the Coruscant Underlevels, and he was soon bashing her verbally in mangled Basic with typical Dug bluntness. She was smiling as he ploughed on; this was clearly an argument they'd had many times. Thrawn tried to place a question, addressing him as Mabalsa. The whole room exploded with laughter when the Dug lifted himself to his full height on his hands and put his feet on his hips to challenge Thrawn to a podrace if he didn't call him Onion.

Tam was tugging at Ayesha's trousers – Onion's tendrils being now out of his reach – and she followed him out of the room. Mira turned to Thrawn. "It's nice to meet you at last," she said. "We heard a lot about the mysterious Navy Captain who can identify a modified Demahl at first sight. Not that I know what a modified Demahl is, but Kal was impressed."

Dacco's eyes widened. "You know the Demahl? No wonder Ayesha likes you, I thought she's the only sentient who can pull that sort of information from the top of her head."

"Ayesha was very eager to learn when she came to the Academy," Kal explained in response to Thrawn's arched eyebrow. "She was hoarding information like an Askajian hoards water."

Lamtee nodded. "She was incredible. You remember when those poodoo-heads in your year had a betting pool on who would sleep with her first? She bored them to death with talk about Paonidd extrassa art and they just ran away."

They all laughed, except Thrawn whose eyes flashed brightly. Tashi noticed it – she was doing obviously better than the others at reading Thrawn's subtle body language – and reverted to safer ground. "She was a different person at the time. She was very shy and she wasn't so comfortable in the company of humans. I didn't complain, I was the most obvious non-human in the Academy, so it was nice for me to have someone to talk to."

Lamtee nodded again. "Yeah, but I'm really glad she opened up. Her Wookiee family are great but Kashyyyk is far too small a world for someone like her."

"It does her a load of good though," Dacco interjected. "She's always glowing when she comes back from her holidays. And I never saw anyone work wood the way she does." Thrawn nodded knowingly. "You got to see her woodcarvings, Capt'?"

"I have," Thrawn said. "I actually keep one on my desk and it is an exceptional piece."

There was a hint of something in his otherwise cool voice that caused Dacco to eye him curiously but he kept his thoughts to himself. He explained that he had been trying to learn more about wood carving from Ayesha – "but I failed abysmally," he added with a chuckle – then went on to say that he and Lamtee were working together on integrating two-dimensional features in Zeltron art, which traditionally consisted only of volumes, when Tam and Ayesha walked back in the room.

Tam waddled to Onion and held out the melon-sized object he was carrying, a piece of soft whitish wood freshly carved in the shape of a shaak. Ayesha had reproduced the rotund animal down to the last detail of its fragile legs and pointed snout. The Dug extracted a few markers from an inner pocket of his jacket and started colouring the toy. He added a few final touches to the head and turned it around to show it to the group. The shaak now had long eyelashes and luscious red lips. It was uproariously funny and the room exploded with laughter again.

Thrawn plucked a wood shaving out of Ayesha's hair as she sat next to him. Without a sound, Tam came and placed the shaak between them, then started climbing on the sofa. "You're in trouble, Capt'," Kal said. "Tammy adores Ayesha and he wants you to know that you have competition for her affections." To his father's and everyone else's great surprise, the little boy settled on Thrawn's lap, took back his new toy and started warbling at it.

Mira leaned forward to observe the content expression on her son's face. "Well, that's a first, Captain. Tammy isn't exactly shy but he doesn't usually take a liking to new faces this fast. You're jumping over the Koch family hurdles with remarkable ease."

Ayesha grinned. "You should have seen Master Nazmat. She put on that big display of charm for Thrawn yesterday. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was hitting on him."

The conversation turned to Nazmat Koch's somewhat eccentric personality. They had all been her students and respected her deeply. Even Onion let go of his aggressive persona to recall how she had taken him under her wing after visiting one of his exhibitions in a gallery just above the Underlevels. "Yes, the Underlevels, if you can imagine that, Capt'," Tashi interrupted. "Master Nazmat Koch visiting an alien art gallery in the Underlevels. I was there, I saw it with my own two eyes, and I can tell you that she was as classy as ever."

The discussion was dying down and Tam was now sucking his thumb, half-asleep on Thrawn's lap, when Mira stood up and gave the signal to leave. They exchanged goodbyes on the landing pad, Tam lingering a little in Ayesha's arms, and flew away. Thrawn and Ayesha returned into the apartment. "That is quite a fascinating group of friends you have," he said as she closed the door and activated the housekeeping droid.

"You liked them?" she asked with a hint of concern. "I was afraid you'd be bored." Both eyebrows shot up at once. She shrugged. "Don't get me wrong," she said by manner of an explanation, "I had a great time and it was really good fun, but there wasn't much intelligent conversation for you tonight."

He shook his head in disbelief and cupped her face in his hands. The shaak carving had left a thin layer of sawdust on her neck and shoulders. "I am very curious to find out about your criteria for intelligent conversation, Ayoo'sha, but there are more pressing matters at hand. Right now you need a shower and I believe that it is something I can help you with."


	19. Chapter 19

Thank you for the follow, Jinx1223!

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><p><strong>Chapter 19: Contradictions<strong>

Their life settled into a pattern over the next month and a half. Ayesha went out with friends on Centaxday and Taungsday every week – she was a creature of habit, she said, and that particular habit dated back to her time in the Academy – and Thrawn spent those nights alone in his quarters in the Palace. On every single other evening, he came to her as soon as his working day was over. He rang the doorbell and stood outside the transparisteel panel until she ushered him in. Her door was always open when she was at home, as was custom on Kashyyyk, and she asked him once why he didn't just walk in. "I am here by your leave, Ayoo'sha," he said in his even voice. "It is only fitting that I wait until you allow me into your home."

When she gave him a perplexed look, he pulled her into a spine-shattering kiss and left it at that.

There were a few times when there was that swirl of molten lava in his eyes after he had spent the day in meetings with senior officials and Grand Admirals. On those nights, Ayesha pulled him to the 'fresher without saying a word and stayed with him under the hot water until his anger washed away. On most evenings however, he simply hugged her tightly and disappeared to the bedroom to change out of his uniform. They had dinner out when he could free himself early enough, but more often than not, his obligations kept him in the Palace until late. He would collect the plate of food waiting for him on the stove and bring it to her workshop. She cleared a corner of the table for him and he sat there to eat, watching her work at her potter's wheel and listening as she chattered away.

Ayesha and Tashi had secured together a commission for three monumental pieces from the Coruscant Public Transportation Authority, and Ayesha did not hide her relief when she told Thrawn that she wouldn't have to worry about making a living for the coming year. "This is like pulling an Idiot's Array when the sabacc pot is overflowing with credits," she said with a radiant smile. "It's not much effort, it's obscenely well paid and the deadline in ten months is ridiculous." The commission left her plenty of time to busy herself with works that were dear to her heart, and he observed with fascination as the most astonishing pieces materialized under her deft fingers.

Sometimes one or another of her close friends dropped by to borrow some exotic tool or simply to chat. Ayesha brought out a bottle of cortyg brandy and Thrawn participated actively in the animated discussions about sculpture and art. His knowledge of the subject was as vast as it was detailed and his heated arguments with Onion soon became a ritual – "or rather one-sided arguments," Tashi said with her wide grin. "Onion has as big and dirty a mouth as any Dug but the Capt' never loses his cool."

Ayesha was particularly cheerful when she was experimenting with a new variety of wood, and she spoke at length of life on Kashyyyk and the elaborate yet utilitarian carvings created by Wookiees. She showed Thrawn once a flat wooden box where she kept a small bowcaster and a miniature Kashyyyk clarion. "My brother Rabarruk made these for me so that I could go hunting with him. I'll never be strong enough to handle the Wookiee ones, so he decided there should be some my size. Not that I'm much of a hunter but I like having them." She caressed the surface of the box with her fingers, her face taking that particular softness she reserved for her younger brother. The lid was carved clumsily in the same pattern as her lineage shield. "This was Rumpy's first carving. He made it when Ada' Yakooboo was working on my khraashyr. He says he wants to be a hunter but I think he'll become an artisan. He's very talented, you know."

Thrawn had learned his lesson since their conversation about Old Kiffar and the Kiffu Guardians and he carefully avoided the subject of her childhood despite his lingering curiosity, until he found her one afternoon working on a piece that she was intending to donate to a fundraiser for street younglings. Under his gentle prodding, she spoke about her time in the Coruscant Underlevels. She told him a little haltingly of the mixture of fear and elation she had experienced when she'd had to defend her newfound freedom by scavenging in dark passageways haunted by shady creatures where help had always come in the most unexpected guises.

He chuckled when she told him how, as a child, she had wanted to dye her hair purple like Khaleen Hentz, whom she had seen as the most beautiful woman in the Galaxy because of the star-shaped tattoo on her stomach. "Please let me choose the dye when you go ahead with it, Ayoo'sha," he said with a twinkle of his eyes. "Some shades of purple can be quite jarring when displayed next to light blue and my reputation as an aesthete might be at stake if I were to be mismatched with you."

She also told Thrawn about her Jedi uncle Quinlan Vos. She worshipped the ground he had walked on, and she spoke of the Jedi in general with unrequited admiration. She shrugged when Thrawn asked for her opinion of the official Imperial line that the Jedi had been traitors to the Republic. "How could that even matter to me, Thrawn? The Jedi in my life shone like a light in the dark."

He told her how his first and only encounter with a Jedi had entailed Master Jorus C'baoth turning to the Dark Side and seeking to choke him with the Force. "Yes," she said with a shudder, "the Dark Side of the Force is a terrible thing." And she returned to her work. There was the haunted look in her eyes again and Thrawn dropped that line of conversation.

He managed a few times to take Benduday off – there was not much rest to be had in the Imperial Navy. They paid a visit to Nazmat Koch. The eccentric old lady's health was deteriorating and she couldn't pull herself to her feet to greet them, but her gaze remained sharp and her wit even sharper.

"Your Master has a way of making me feel like a schoolboy who has not done his homework," Thrawn told Ayesha as they left.

"Yes, she does that," she said with a hearty laugh. "If it's any consolation, you're not alone. I saw her talk to the Emperor once, and even he was cowering under her stare."

A few weeks later, they took Tam to the Holographic Zoo of Extinct Animals and the little boy spent his afternoon squealing with delight on Thrawn's shoulders at the sight of the various long-gone creatures that populated the museum. There was an entire new section dedicated to now-defunct species from Alderaan, and Tam was cheering as they weaved through the holograms of great thrantas flapping their wings. Ayesha kept her smile on for Tammy until they dropped him back at his parents' home, but she declined Mira's offer to stay for dinner and her face was dark when they reached her apartment.

She usually avoided questioning Thrawn about his work – she understood that, as a civilian, she could not be privy to military matters – but after returning from the zoo, she cornered him and asked unrelentingly about the Rebellion, the Death Star and the destruction of Alderaan. He reverted to his arrogant Navy officer persona and answered her questions with curt, precise sentences. He explained about the Tarkin Doctrine of intimidating rebel systems into submission – a strategy he personally disagreed with, he said, it was sometimes counterproductive, but law and order were paramount given the various threats in the Galaxy and, for better or for worse, the Tarkin Doctrine was the policy of the Imperial Navy.

Ayesha shrugged angrily. "There is no better or worse in such a matter, Thrawn. That Death Star was an abomination. No one would build such a weapon if they didn't think it's okay to blow away billions of lives just to make an example."

He gazed at her for a long moment, then pulled her into one of his sudden, lingering kisses. She was so startled that she asked what took him. "You reminded me that I have a soul," he said cryptically, and without another word he lifted her in his arms and took her to bed.

Their nights together were moments of exquisite delight, a fine balance between intense passion and delicate tenderness. Thrawn was a different man every time he bedded her. There were days when he was possessive and dominant, almost brutal, yet never unkind. There were other days when he was languid and teasing, stroking her with expert hands and nibbling her with gentle lips, his caresses growing to a frenzy as she whimpered for more. Sometimes she decided that she should be in the driver's seat, and she woke him up in the small hours of the morning for what she called an after-midnight. She let her small hands run over his body, moulding his every muscle like one of her sculptures, and she teased him with touch and sound until primal instinct took over and they exploded together in a supernova of lust.

She soon noticed that he was at his most vulnerable when, sweat-soaked and panting, he was murmuring in her ear in Cheunh, and she shamelessly admitted to taking advantage of it to get him to talk about himself. He told her about his childhood on Csilla, his adoption by the Eighth Ruling Family of the Chiss Ascendancy, his commission in the Chiss Expansionary Defence Fleet and his years of exile on a jungle planet. He spoke of his brother's disappearance with a deep sense of loss. He remained however tight-lipped about the circumstances and no amount of cajoling would pry another word from him. He told her instead how he had stowed away on the _Strikefast_ to escape from exile, and the story of how he had kept a team of His Majesty's finest troops running around in circles had her roaring with laughter.

When she tried to broach the subject of his brother's disappearance again, he entwined himself around her and said, "It is my turn to ask you to drop this matter, Ayoo'sha. There are stories that are simply not to be told. There are beings in this Galaxy too vile for you to know about, and if I can protect you from even hearing their name, I will."

"I'm not a fragile doll," she snapped angrily.

He pulled back a little to gaze at her. "No, you are not. You are a contradiction." She gave him a look that was half curiosity, half fury. It made him smile, and he hugged her tighter and lulled her to sleep.

There was an indefinable sense of puzzlement emanating from him, an uncertainty, a hesitation that perplexed her. He surprised her more than once by acting with the formal politeness of a perfect stranger, in the first week going as far as asking for her permission to do something as simple as to help himself to a glass of water. She would sometimes catch a glimpse of him staring at her with his trademark arched eyebrow, even though she was merely in the middle of some chore in the kitchen or simply putting a datacard back on its shelf. Or he would stop speaking and tilt his head to the side in the middle of a sentence, and gaze at her for a moment before resuming his train of thought. One morning she woke up to find him at her side, propping himself up on his elbow with his head in his hand and looking at her as if expecting an answer to some unspoken question. She stretched and yawned, and, now wide awake, she asked him why he was always scrutinizing her like an art expert authenticating a piece for an auction.

"Because you are a contradiction," he said again, as if it were the most obvious thing in the Galaxy.

She grimaced. "Would you care to elaborate?"

He leaned to kiss her shoulder. "You are a unique, a beautiful, a luminous contradiction." She gave him a glare of impatience when he didn't say more, and a scathing retort came to her lips, but his mouth was already over hers and there was no need to talk.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20: The holosculpture**

Ayesha collected her luggage and gazed at the crowd in the spaceport until she caught sight of Thrawn. He'd been assigned to the Emperor's Retreat on Naboo for two months and insisted that she join him, at least for a short while. She was reluctant at first – she avoided the Imperial Court like the blue shadow virus since the end of her fellowship and declined invitations to official events whenever possible – until he told her that the Emperor was not expected in Naboo for at least three weeks. He then buried his face in her neck and murmured, "I remember you mentioning that I should not leave your bed empty, Ayoo'sha. Do you really wish to be left to such a lonely fate?" It made her laugh, and she rearranged her work schedule with Tashi to allow for a five-day trip.

She gasped with admiration as they flew across the lush countryside. Her face darkened a little when she saw the Retreat in the distance – there was something ominous about the place, she said – but Thrawn steered the speeder across the gardens to a small house beyond the main building. It was obviously intended to be servants' quarters, perhaps a gamekeeper's, and she gave him a curious look.

"Some members of the Inquisitorius who are currently in residence did not want my company," he explained as he lifted her travel bag and carried it to the door.

She shook her head, understanding full well the unspoken implication. "Sometimes I wonder how you can serve with those people," she said bitterly.

"Did it even occur to you that I might not want their company either?" His lips were twitching into a smile, but there was a thread of steel under the humour in his voice.

The house was comfortable, the Fijisi wood self-portrait she'd made for Thrawn was on the table and the little balcony off the lounge had a lovely view to the lake, but Ayesha remained moody and brooding until Thrawn came behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Given our plans for the coming hours, I expect that you would not want their company yourself, or any company at all for that matter," he breathed in her ear, and he whisked her off to the bedroom. She soon forgot about the Emperor and the Inquisitorius and prejudice against aliens and decided to enjoy her stay.

Thrawn's schedule was much more relaxed at the Retreat. He still had to take comm calls at odd hours, but he managed to free himself in the afternoons. She spent her mornings sunbathing on the balcony until she saw him walk back from the main residence. He changed out of his uniform, abandoning his military persona as if shedding a skin, and they took off to visit the sights. She'd already come to Naboo to harvest Gungan clay, but she'd spent most of her time in the marshlands and hadn't seen many of the planet's most remarkable buildings. Thrawn guided her through the palaces and the museums. They discussed Naboo architecture and roamed the streets of Theed for hours on end before finding a small restaurant for dinner. She stopped every now and then to pull her sketch pad out of her satchel and make some indecipherable drawing – "ideas for later," she said – and Thrawn was left staring at the jumble of lines with a cocked eyebrow, clearly wondering what in the Galaxy she was up to.

"It is quite fortunate that I will never be in the position of running a military campaign against you," he told her as she finished a particularly intricate sketch that bore no resemblance whatsoever to the mausoleum they were visiting. "I would be at a complete loss to predict your next move." She explained that she had been trying to capture the flutter of the willow trees behind the stained glass window featuring some long-dead queen of Naboo. He stared at the pad some more and shook his head. "Name your terms for my surrender, Ayoo'sha. This campaign is lost before it got past the planning stage." She gave him one of her mischievous smiles and he added, with a twitch of his lips, "It is good to know that your terms will be painless – and perhaps even enjoyable." They skipped dinner that evening and ended up ordering food from the Emperor's kitchens in the middle of the night.

She complained when he woke her up early the next morning to insist that she could not leave Naboo without seeing more of the Lake Country. She buried her head under the pillow but leapt out of bed when she heard that he had swapped shifts with another officer and had the whole day off. There was a glitter of bewilderment in his eyes as she jumped in the shower, got dressed and gulped her caf in less than ten minutes. "What?" she asked when she caught his gaze. "A whole day just the two of us and you expect me to waste time? Let's go."

The boat dropped them off at a small pier and they took a long trek across a landscape of hills and waterfalls before reaching a sumptuous lakeside estate. Ayesha hesitated when they found the gate but Thrawn walked in, explaining that it was considered a historical monument and that the outdoor area was open to the public. They wandered in the gardens and climbed the stairs around the building up to a large terrace overlooking the lake. The view was stunning but Ayesha's eyes remained fixed on a life-size holosculpture in the middle of the terrace. It represented a woman lying in a casket. Her hair was fanned out around her body and studded with small water flowers, and her hands were folded above a bulging belly that suggested she was pregnant. The sun rays filtering through the thin mist clouding the sky played across the pale shine of the hologram, adding to the eeriness of the scene.

Ayesha's gaze moved to the base of the funerary monument, which was carved with the words 'Padmé Amidala Naberrie, Queen of Naboo, Senator of the Chommell sector,' together with a date of birth and a date of death some twenty years prior. "Isn't this the queen whose mausoleum we visited yesterday?"

"It is," Thrawn said. "It is said that she was much loved by her people and that they mourned her passing greatly."

"They did," Ayesha said absent-mindedly after a long silence. "Can you feel the serenity of this place?" She pulled out her pad. "Do you mind? It may take a bit longer than usual, I'm not sure what I want to do."

Thrawn nodded and moved to the edge of the terrace to enjoy the vista while she settled on a windowsill and set to work. She pencilled several abstract sketches but was happy with none, and was flipping back and forth through the pages to understand what she was doing wrong, when a voice broke into her thoughts. "Are you an artist?"

Ayesha looked up to see a pretty young woman smiling at her. She smiled back. "I am. I'm a sculptor but my kit is a bit difficult to carry around, so I settled for a sketch pad while I'm visiting here."

The woman smiled again and went to say something when Thrawn appeared at their side. "Good afternoon, Senator Naberrie," he said in his cultured voice.

"Private citizen Naberrie," the woman corrected. "As you know, the Senate has been disbanded. But your exquisite politeness is always very much appreciated, Captain." She held out her hand. "Welcome back to Naboo, it's been quite a long time."

Thrawn introduced Ayesha to Pooja Naberrie and the two women chatted for a while. Pooja explained that her family owned the estate and that Padmé Amidala had been her aunt. She spoke of Padmé's role in the history of Naboo, particularly the events surrounding the Trade Federation blockade, which had led to a mending of ties between Gungans and Humans, an alliance that lasted to this day and that she viewed as Padmé's greatest achievement. Ayesha explained in turn about her interest in Gungan art and finally asked the question that was burning her lips. "Who made this?" she said, pointing at the holosculpture. "I looked at the base but I didn't find a signature."

"The artist wanted to remain anonymous," Pooja said as they walked over to the statue. "He said that the monument should be purely in honour of Aunt Padmé's memory."

Ayesha gazed at the figure lying in the casket for a moment. "He must have loved her very much."

Pooja gave a sad smile. "He did. She had a way of doing that to people. A little bit like you, probably."

Ayesha blushed and looked at the statue again. "I've never seen a holosculpture so delicate. The level of detail is simply astounding." She pointed at a carved chip of wood hanging from a leather thread entwined around the dead woman's fingers. "Is this a japor snippet? You have them on Naboo? I thought japor ivory wood is found only on Tatooine."

Pooja seemed a little surprised but answered nevertheless. "It was indeed given to her by a little boy from Tatooine. He was a slave there and Aunt Padmé was with the party that freed him when she had to flee Naboo during the blockade. He became a Jedi later and was assigned as her personal bodyguard when she became the Senator for this sector."

Ayesha stared at her in disbelief. "There was a Jedi who had been a slave?"

Pooja eyed her curiously. "Yes. At least so I am told, I never got to ask him in person. My sister and I were completely enamoured with him when he accompanied Aunt Padmé here, but he never even looked at us. We were just children and he was simply too smitten with her. I think she liked him too, you know."

"Do you remember his name?"

Pooja laughed. "Of course, how could I not? His name was Anakin Skywalker." Ayesha's face turned deathly pale and Thrawn took a brisk step towards her. "Are you feeling alright?" Pooja asked.

Ayesha ignored the question. "You wouldn't happen to have any holos of him here, would you?" Pooja eyed her with renewed curiosity and without taking a breath she told the story of her liberation from Zygerria and how Darth Vader had said that the Jedi was Anakin Skywalker. Pooja winced a little at the mention of the Dark Lord's name but composed herself quickly and took Ayesha's hand to lead her to a cosy lounge with a fireplace. There were several holographs of Padmé in stately robes on the walls and in one of them, a young man barely out of his teens with a long Padawan braid was standing behind her. Ayesha grabbed Thrawn's arm in a vice-like grip. "It's him," she stuttered. "He was older and his hair was different, but I'm sure it's him. I'll never forget that face. It's him."

Thrawn placed a hand on her back to steady her while Pooja disappeared in another room to fetch refreshments. She then pulled Ayesha to the couch and told her everything she could remember about Anakin Skywalker, from the moment Padmé found him on Tatooine to his disappearance at the end of the Clone Wars. When colour finally returned to Ayesha's cheeks and Thrawn stood up to leave, Pooja removed the holograph from the wall, gave it to her and, ignoring her profuse thanks, hugged her warmly. "Please be in touch next time you come to Naboo. I'll introduce you to my mother and I'm sure she'll tell you a lot more."

Ayesha didn't sleep that night. She lay in bed, Thrawn's fingertips grazing gently the skin of her belly as she stared at the ceiling. Her eyes took from time to time the glassy texture associated with memories of her childhood, but she did not seem particularly troubled, rather thoughtful and pensive. The sun was rising when she finally spoke. "You know, I've been thinking for a while that I should sculpt something for that Jedi. Maybe this is the right time to do it."

Thrawn lifted himself on his elbow to look at her. "That may not be a good idea, Ayoo'sha," he said cautiously. "The Jedi are enemies of the Empire. Lord Vader struck one down on the Death Star less than a year ago." She gave her I-don't-care shrug. "Ayoo'sha, please," he pressed, "please do not do this. You are treading on dangerous ground."

She sighed. "It's been so many years, I have a new life, I have a wonderful family... I have you," she added. "Kchak Pr'ollerg is dead, I have a name and now even a holo to go with a face that's been haunting me for virtually as long as I can remember, and I still can't find closure." She sighed again, then smiled, as if making up her mind. "I'm going to do this." She looked at him with another smile. "Nobody needs to know. I won't tell anyone if you don't." He went to argue with her, but she suddenly pulled him closer and planted a kiss on his lips. "No more talk, Qubshi be-khadeeb," she whispered. "I'm leaving back to Coruscant today and I want something to remember you by."


	21. Chapter 21

Merry Christmas, everyone. Let me take this opportunity to thank you all for reading!

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><p><strong>Chapter 21: The appointment<strong>

When Thrawn returned to Coruscant for a brief visit a few weeks later – he had to report on the investigation of Captain Dolmen's shuttle crash near the Retreat – Ayesha looked a little tired but she greeted him with a squeal of delight that made Tashi laugh. The two women had been sitting in the workshop and Thrawn followed Tashi to his usual place while Ayesha vanished to the kitchen to fetch the cortyg brandy. "She's so totally into you, Capt'," Tashi said with her wide Sullustan grin. "I don't think she ever made that kind of sound for a man before."

Thrawn gave an embarrassed shrug and enquired politely how their work for the Coruscant Public Transportation Authority was going.

"Not much," Tashi answered. "There's something on her mind. But it's okay, we have plenty of time."

The workshop was unusually tidy. The holograph of Anakin Skywalker and the abstract sketches of Padmé Amidala's memorial were displayed on an easel but the random assortment of tools that normally occupied the edge of the table was missing and the potter's wheel seemed abandoned. As soon as Tashi left, Ayesha pulled a folder from a shelf and spread a large collection of drawings on the table for Thrawn to see.

Some were those incomprehensible jumbles of lines that left him utterly clueless, but there were also several portraits of Anakin Skywalker, his face harder and his hair longer and more unruly than in the holo, as well as sketches of a three-way duel. "I told you, I'm keeping this a secret," she said when Thrawn gave her a disapproving look. "Now help me with these drawings. The movement isn't right."

Between his uneasiness and her impatience, their conversation was fruitless. He left back to Naboo early the next morning.

On his following trip nearly one month later, Ayesha was pale and drawn. The little bump of tummy fat no longer stretched the waistband of her trousers and her collarbone seemed more prominent under the shoulder straps of her tank top.

"We're worried," Lamtee told Thrawn on the second night, when she left the lounge to check on the bruallki roast. "She always looks tired, she doesn't eat, she hasn't sculpted anything in weeks, and it's all very unlike her."

Dacco looked at Thrawn hesitantly. "Is everything alright between the two of you, Capt'? I'm sorry for asking this, but Tashi says that she keeps staring at a holo of another man. For us Zeltrons that's completely okay, but it's really not her style."

Had Thrawn wanted to answer – the flash in his eyes clearly indicated that he did not – he would have been prevented from doing so by Onion, who stood up on his front legs and insulted the Zeltron copiously in Huttese. "You leave that woman alone," the Dug barked. "She'll find her way, she always does, and she doesn't need a nanny." There was an uncomfortable silence when Ayesha returned to the lounge, but Onion blurted one of his jokes and the conversation resumed.

She showed her drawings to Thrawn again. The folder was considerably thicker now, but her shoulders were sagging in defeat. "I keep getting it wrong," she sighed. "There's something missing."

"Perhaps you are not ready to do this yet," he replied. "Perhaps this is not the right time."

He had given up the frontal approach a long time ago, but the hint of disapproval was there. Ayesha shrugged angrily. "You're saying that because you don't want me to do it at all."

"I want you safe and healthy, Ayoo'sha. Right now it seems to me you are neither. Your friends are concerned about you, so am I, and they do not even know that you are tempting fate." She gave him a furious look but he scooped her up in his arms before things got out of hand. "Do not waste all your thoughts on some long-gone Jedi, at least not while I am here," he murmured as he laid her on the bed. "Unlike him, I am very much alive and I intend to deliver a reminder to the best of my ability." For the first time in two days, her face broke into a smile that actually reached her eyes and the games were on.

By the time his stint on Naboo ended and he returned to Coruscant for good, Ayesha was a ghost of herself. The circles under her eyes had become darker and she had lost a lot of weight. Thrawn was looking at her with genuine concern as he lay at her side, his fingers counting her ribs. "It's not coming," she finally whispered. "It's just not coming."

"Why can you not simply let it go, Ayoo'sha?" he asked. "Not because of the risks it entails," he added quickly when she glared at him. "This project is consuming you."

"I need to do this, Qubshi be-khadeeb. I just don't know how. Why can't you understand that?"

Tears were shining in her eyes. He entwined himself around her and tried to lull her to sleep, but she was still wide awake when the first rays of the morning sun found their way through the blinds.

They settled back in their three-nights-a-week pattern but they were now spending their evenings in an uneasy silence. He watched over her shoulder as her pencil ran on sheet after sheet of flimsi. She was sometimes so frustrated that she would throw away an entire day's work before going to bed. She engaged in several pointless arguments over unimportant things, and always ended up apologizing profusely, but she would not hear that she should give up.

On one particular night when she had simply stared at a blank sheet of flimsi for hours without saying a word, Thrawn asked her if he should come less often.

"Please don't do that," she said with anguish in her voice. "I can't do this without you."

He gave her a perplexed look, his eyebrows almost reaching his hairline, but then he shook his head and kissed her.

His step was a little more hesitant as he arrived and waited outside the transparisteel door, and his hug was a little tighter, but she didn't seem to notice and went on with her work.

She decided to try a different approach and read up about swordplay and fencing – literature pertaining to lightsaber combat or anything remotely connected to the Jedi arts was banned and hard to come by – but it didn't get her anywhere.

She was increasingly tense, her mood bordered on desperation, and things finally came to a head on a Zhellday evening. They went together to an official function she hadn't been able to avoid, and when they arrived home from the Palace, she told Thrawn that she had requested and obtained an appointment with Darth Vader.

"Absolutely not," Thrawn thundered, uncharacteristically letting go of his well-controlled temper. "You will go nowhere near that man."

She shot him a scathing look. "Says who?"

"I do," he snapped. "I will not allow you to do something so foolish."

His answer had her seething. "When did you start thinking of yourself as Kchak Pr'ollerg?" she asked nastily.

For a moment his face was like an open book as pain and sorrow washed over him. He took a deep breath to steady himself. "Ayoo'sha, please, please, listen to me. Lord Vader is a brave and brilliant man but he is impulsive and unbalanced. He was the main executioner during the Great Jedi Purge, it is very possible that he is the one who killed this Anakin Skywalker, and he might be responsible for the disappearance of your Jedi uncle as well. He is a user of the Dark Side of the Force, he chokes people routinely to express his displeasure at the most trivial things and it would be, to say the least, unwise to approach him with this misguided project of yours."

"Lord Vader has always been kind to me," she countered. "He's the one who told me about Anakin Skywalker, so I don't see why he'd choke me for asking about him. And my project is not misguided."

"I stand corrected. Your project is not misguided, it is suicidal and insane. You are willing to risk your life over something that happened more than twenty years ago."

She rounded on him with such fury that he took a step back. "Do you know what it's like?" she hissed. "Do you have the slightest idea what it's like? Not to have a name, not to own your body, to be an object that can be branded and traded and sold on a whim? I spent the past twenty-one years trying to come to terms with that and everything that happened after I came out of it. Yes, I am insane. I struggle every day to be a person, not a broken doll, and now that I might be able to put one of these horrible things behind me, you want to deprive me of it? What sort of man are you?" He opened his mouth to speak but she held up her hand. "This is not up for discussion. I asked Lord Vader for an appointment and he granted me one. I'm going to his palace tomorrow morning at nine hundred hours, and the only way you'll prevent me from doing so is by having me thrown in a high-security prison."

Thrawn held her that night as if his life depended on it. He entwined himself tightly around her as soon as they slipped under the covers and watched as she fell asleep in his arms. He was still staring at her when she woke up in the morning and, once she was showered and dressed, he helped her in the speeder and flew her to Darth Vader's private residence. He kissed her deeply under the mildly shocked gaze of the security guards, his tongue savouring her mouth as if it were some rare delicacy, and left without saying a word.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22: The duel**

A stormtrooper led Ayesha to Darth Vader's meditation chamber. She watched in awe as the jaws of the hyperbaric pod opened and a mechanical arm lowered the black helmet on a scarred head before the Dark Lord swivelled around on his chair to look at her. She bowed deeply until he uttered a single word. "Speak."

"My Lord," she said timidly, "let me first thank you once again for..." Darth Vader flapped his hand in a way that meant 'get over with it already'. For some unexplainable reason, it gave her courage. "My Lord, you told me that the man who freed me from slavery on Zygerria was the Jedi Anakin Skywalker," she said in a clear voice, looking straight at the mask. "As you know, I am an artist, and I would like to create a sculpture for him, but my memories of the lightsaber duel I witnessed are... confused, and I have failed so far to produce anything satisfactory. I would have no words to express my gratitude if you could allow me to observe while you train, so that I can create a piece that is worthy."

There was an ominous pause. "Anakin Skywalker is dead," Darth Vader said in his deep, rasping voice.

She held his gaze as best she could and answered firmly, "I understand that, My Lord, and I see that I did not express my thoughts properly. I would like to create a sculpture about Anakin Skywalker, but it would not be for him. I need to create it for myself."

Only the sound of Darth Vader's mechanical breathing could be heard for several minutes, and Ayesha's face was twisting in despair at the thought that her request was being rejected, when the Dark Lord finally stood up. "Come with me."

She trotted behind him in a deserted corridor to a large room that was empty save for a line of spindly droids of a sort she had never seen before. "Sit," he commanded. She sank to the floor against the wall and watched as Darth Vader activated two of the droids. "Count Dooku and Asajj Ventress, protocol 2-1-6," he barked. He moved to the centre of the room and unhooked his lightsaber from his belt.

The two droids transformed into the old man and the bald woman who had been haunting her memories and the three-way duel began. Without taking the time to think, Ayesha pulled her sketch pad out of her satchel, her pencil flying on the flimsi as Count Dooku was swept aside by a casual wave of Vader's hand while Asajj Ventress sprang at him, her two lightsabers spinning in the air like the blades of a propeller. Vader parried until Dooku joined the fight again, and he was soon battling both at once. The contrast between them was jarring. The old man was all speed, agility and finesse, while the woman was leaping like a coiled predator, and Darth Vader was breezing through it all, bashing them brutally with that odd combination of grace and clumsiness that fascinated her. He fought with a strength that was raw and rough, more so than what she could recall of Skywalker's powerful moves, but a sense of overwhelming elation was washing over her and she filled page after page with the mysterious abstract doodles that so intrigued Thrawn. A smile floated across her face when she imagined his reaction.

The fighting became more aggressive, the attacks and counter-attacks more intense, Darth Vader was unleashing his fury, and Ayesha suddenly clutched her head in unspeakable pain as images of the duel on Zygerria started leaking into her, superimposing on the elegant dance she was observing. Her mind showed her Anakin Skywalker seizing Ventress by the wrist and telling her to surrender, but her eyes saw Darth Vader chopping off her hand viciously to grab one of her blades. She moaned in agony as dark anger and untold suffering that weren't hers invaded her thoughts, and clung to her last memory of peace and serenity, the beautiful yet sad holosculpture on Naboo made by the unnamed artist who had loved the queen. The Dark Lord gave a start when the image popped into her head, Count Dooku's blade caught him on the shoulder, and he exploded with uncontrollable rage.

He swung at his opponents with the savagery of a krayt dragon, literally hacking them to pieces as his mind flooded hers. Ayesha saw a woman with sad eyes in front of a hovel. She saw a man in a farmer's poncho fighting a red-and-black creature from the depths of Chaos. She saw a glowing blade flying through an encampment in a desert, a kiss in an arena of insectoid aliens, a bride by the lake. She saw Count Dooku's head falling off his body, a gloved hand on a bulging belly, the japor snippet around Padmé's neck. She saw a bald Jedi caught in a storm of lightning, children slaughtered in stately halls and aliens slaughtered in a dark room. She saw Padmé again, heavily pregnant, clutching her neck as she crumpled to the ground in a landscape of smoke and lava, and she saw a duel on a sea of fire. She saw the Emperor's yellow eyes and heard his laughter, and she experienced a surge of hatred that could only come from a being who would delight in watching him die a slow, painful death.

The last pieces of the droids clattered to the floor and Darth Vader was towering above her. She didn't look up, her head buried in her knees as her whole body shivered. She heard him breathe for a few minutes, and then he was gone with a swish of his cloak.

When Thrawn came to Ayesha's apartment in the evening and rang the doorbell, the transparisteel panel was wide open but no one came to greet him. He peered inside and saw light in the workshop, and when he rang the bell again to no avail, he stepped in cautiously.

The table in the workshop was a battlefield strewn with dozens of carving tools and pages and pages of torn and crumpled drawings. Crushed stone grated under his feet as he walked in and saw Ayesha. She was sitting on her stool, stark naked, her torn clothes on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest and chewing her wrist, her glassy eyes staring at crumbled remnants on her potter's wheel. Thrawn circled the room to come and face her. She did not appear to see him, nor did she answer when he spoke her name. There were several deep cuts on her fingers, and blood was streaming down her chin as she bit her wrist far too hard. Only when he took her hand to remove it from her mouth did she finally react. Her blank eyes focused on his face and she whispered, "Qubshi? Qubshi be-khadeeb?"

Thrawn unfolded her knees and brought her feet to the ground, handling her as if she were made of thin crystal. "I am here, Ayoo'sha," he said soothingly. "I am here. What happened?"

She shook her head. "He didn't do it on purpose."

There was a flash of anger in his gaze. "What happened, Ayoo'sha? Did Lord Vader hurt you?"

Her eyes darted in all directions. "No, Anakin. He loved her but he killed her. He didn't do it on purpose, he gave her the japor snippet." She went on mumbling incoherently, then added, "He was in my head but he didn't mean to. He just wanted to show me, he didn't do it on purpose."


	23. Chapter 23

Happy 2015, everyone!

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><p><strong>Chapter 23: Japor ivory wood <strong>

The next morning, Thrawn woke up and, after changing the bacta strips on Ayesha's fingers and wrist and checking that the powerful sedative he had given her would keep her asleep, he went straight to the High Command Headquarters and placed a request for immediate shore leave for personal reasons. The ensign manning the desk looked at him curiously and, when Thrawn offered no further explanation, he asked him to wait until the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy could see him. Thrawn stood patiently in the office, straight-backed with his hands clasped behind him, and soon enough he found himself in the presence of Darth Vader.

"You are requesting leave for personal reasons," the Dark Lord said. "This is unusual. Explain."

"I have private matters to attend to, My Lord," Thrawn answered stiffly.

Darth Vader let out something that sounded like a snort. "I did not ask you for an excuse, Captain," he said ominously when Thrawn failed to elaborate. "I ordered you to give me an explanation."

There was a brief silence as Thrawn seemed to ponder his options. "Miss Eskari is unwell, My Lord," he said finally. His face was as impassive as the Sith Lord's mask, but a hint of provocation seeped into his voice.

There was another, long silence filled with Darth Vader's mechanical breathing. "Her mind is fragile," he said. "It has been broken before and it will be broken again, perhaps irreparably." He tapped a few keys on a datapad and handed it to Thrawn, whose eyes were now swirling with molten lava. "You may leave."

"What did you do to her?" Thrawn rasped as he reached the door. "... My Lord," he added as an afterthought.

The Dark Lord gave a start, visibly surprised and angered at the same time by this breach of decorum from an officer whose cool, calculating temper and impeccable manners were legendary in the Imperial Navy. "I gave her what she wanted, Captain," he thundered. "As I told you in the past, unlike my master I do not hurt or kill for pleasure." His mask's bulging eyes seemed to bore into Thrawn's. "Your request is granted. Leave before I change my mind."

For three days Ayesha cowered in the back of the apartment. She left her room only once, to send a comm message and cancel her fixed-day get-togethers on Centaxday and Taungsday, and the expression of sheer terror on her face when she glanced at the closed doors of her workshop was such that Thrawn took to bringing her meals in bed. She was fully aware of her surroundings now, although she did not speak much, but when Thrawn tried to ask what had happened, her eyes became unfocused and she rambled about Anakin and Padmé and the japor snippet. She breathed a sigh of relief every morning when she found him at her side, and on Taungsday, when he returned from the kitchen with her breakfast to find her awake and trembling, she told him with panic in her voice, "I thought you were gone."

Tashi and Onion came to clear the mess in her workshop and place the carefully catalogued tools back on their shelf. Thrawn went to throw away the file of torn, crumpled sketches, but the Dug caught his hand. "She'll need this, Capt', whatever it is," he growled, and then added in an uncertain grumble, "she'll find her way, she always does." Ayesha didn't get out of bed to see them before they left.

Later that evening, Mira came over and brought along Tam. The little boy curled up next to Ayesha under the covers while Mira sat on the edge of the bed. Ayesha finally fell asleep for the first time in days without a sedative, and Tam gave Thrawn a furious kick as they walked back to the landing pad. Mira apologized profusely on behalf of her son, then added with a hint of pride, "Tammy knows that you'll help her, Captain, he's just upset that you haven't done so yet. But I'm sure that you'll figure it out sooner rather than later. Barring that, I might unleash my grandmother on you." Thrawn's lips twitched and she gave a short laugh, but there was undisguised concern on her face as she revved up her speeder and took off in the skylanes.

Thrawn spent the night in the storage area of Ayesha's workshop, his eyes glittering with concentration as he sought to pry answers from the wide variety of sculpts and flats, and by Zhellday morning he had apparently made up his mind. He brought her a breakfast worthy of a rancor and, once she had eaten to his satisfaction, he helped her bathe and slip on her Berchestian artisan trousers and one of her tank tops. He then placed a hand on her shoulder and marched her to the workshop. There was a large chunk of japor ivory wood wedged in the durasteel collar on the potter's wheel and her favourite carving tools were laid out on the edge of the table, but the file of sketches and the holograph of Anakin and Padmé were nowhere to be seen. He forced her down on her stool, pulled his own closer and sat behind her with his knees on either side of her body and his hands warm on her hips. "There, Ayoo'sha," he said. "Go ahead and do it, I will be here with you."

Ayesha stared at her wheel for several hours with her hands folded in her lap. Her shoulders finally sagged in defeat and she went to stand up, but Thrawn pinned her to her seat, reached for her bandaged wrist and lifted her arm gently. "Touch the wood, Ayoo'sha," he murmured. "Touch the wood."

She brushed the raw material uncertainly with her palm, then licked her thumb and ran it around the edge, and started following the translucent veins of the ivory wood with her fingertips. "I need to draw a sketch," she finally whispered.

Thrawn placed the stylus from Bimmisaari in her hand. "No more sketches. You know what needs to be done, now do it." She couldn't see the tension on his face, but she heard him exhale a sigh of relief when she finally carved a hesitant notch in the wood. A second notch followed the first, then a third, then another. She turned to the table to examine the display of tools thoughtfully, and after a while she chose a different stylus and a curved knife and set back to work.

She moved cautiously, stopping every now and then to caress the wood, but something was slowly taking shape under her fingers, and when twilight came, the rough cylinder had become an upended, truncated cone with helix-shaped grooves. Thrawn remained perfectly still behind her all the while, and only when daylight faded did he remove the tool she was twirling in her hand. "This is enough for today," he said, patting her hip. "Come now, you must eat."

Her eyes were still on the potter's wheel. "I don't want to eat," she said absent-mindedly. "I want to make love with you."

His lips twitched into a smile as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "That, too, Ayoo'sha," he murmured in her neck. "But you need to eat and so do I. I am famished and I am sure you are as well."

She woke him at sunrise the next morning and pulled him to the workshop. They took their respective seats and she started carving the piece again. She was working much faster now, impatiently even, and Thrawn watched with a pang of worry when she turned to the shelf to take a long, nasty-looking blade and set the wheel spinning. She hollowed out the cone, leaving only a thin layer of wood, and sat back on her stool. She remained still for a moment, then picked up her stylus and carving knife and said, "It was him, you know. Lord Vader. He was Anakin Skywalker. He loved Padmé and they got married, but then he killed her even though he wanted to protect her." Thrawn was so startled that he almost lost his balance but she didn't seem to notice. She worked some more on the outer wall of the carving, then stood up to look inside, stopped dead in her tracks and added, "He's in terrible pain and there's no one to share it. The Emperor did it to him. He's a good man but he doesn't know how." And without another word, she set about peeling shavings off the inside of her sculpt.

Her small hands were now flying on the surface of the wood. All hesitation was gone as she deftly carved and shaved and sanded and polished, juggling with dozens of tools to adjust the smallest details. She finally sent the wheel in a slow spin and leaned back against Thrawn's chest to look at her work. The rough chunk of ivory wood had become a flimsi-thin, luminous vortex. The oblique rays of the afternoon sun played through it with the eerie glow of the holosculpture on Naboo, revealing the translucent shadow of a domineering but graceful figure dancing with a blade on the inner wall.

"Do you think he'll like it?" she asked.

Thrawn's eyebrow travelled up. "Who?"

"Lord Vader. I think he should have it."

Thrawn was left speechless, but she didn't wait for his answer. She swivelled her stool on its axis, swung her legs around him and pulled herself up to straddle his lap. Her kiss was not open for negotiation, her tongue tasted his lips, and soon she felt his hands crawling under her shirt. Her face broke into the familiar mischievous smile. "Good," she breathed in his ear. "You know what needs to be done, now do it."


	24. Chapter 24

**A word of warning: **This chapter was re-written into 3000+ words of shameless, gooey mush, because my beta-reader over at TF.N loves mush and it's her present for the new year. If you don't like mushy romance, you'll find all the useful plot info in the first part, before the separator, and you can skip the rest.

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><p><strong>Chapter 24: Jealousy<strong>

Thrawn went back to work and Ayesha quickly made a full recovery, becoming once again her whimsical, cheerful self. She slept like a baby at night and ate ravenously, as if to make up for time lost. Thrawn took to teasing her about her appetite. "I greatly enjoy watching you tuck away such quantities of food, Ayoo'sha. I am finally seeing the Wookiee in you." There was one night when, after hours of frolicking in bed, she fetched from the kitchen a bowl of blue yoghurt and wasaka berry jam and settled back against the pillows to eat. She caught a glitter of irony in his gaze and asked him if he thought she was becoming fat. His hand trailed from her shoulder over her chest and came to rest on the soft curve of her hip. "Not at all, at least not yet," he said with a playful twinkle of his eyes. "Which is not to say that I would mind if there were more Ayesha for me to hold, provided however that you remain a single person. Heaven knows how I would cope if there were two of you." She gave him a mock angry look and stretched to put the empty bowl on the nightstand. He was now tickling her little bump of tummy fat with his fingertips and continued speaking. "Now, if you have recovered the energy you need, perhaps we could resume our previous activity." His hand had already moved further down and she didn't even have time to laugh.

There was another night when she pulled him to her, cradling his head against her shoulder, and told him in detail what she had seen when Darth Vader's memories had flooded her mind. He hadn't tried to question her about what had happened in his palace – there was a newfound serenity about her since she'd sent Vader her Japor woodcarving some three weeks prior – but he listened with great interest and asked her cautiously to clarify a point here and there. He then made her promise that she would never speak of it with anyone else. "Please listen to me this time, Ayoo'sha," he pressed. "There are many people who would kill to know what you know about Lord Vader."

"I promise. I actually listen to you, you know. This was just something I needed to do, and I think you understand that now." He nodded and she held him tighter to plant a fierce kiss on his forehead. "Thank you for not walking out on me," she whispered.

His head jerked up and he stared at her with utter bewilderment. "How could I possibly walk out on you, and most importantly, why?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Most people run away when I'm in that state."

There was genuine anguish in her voice. Thrawn sought to defuse the situation. "I see that I still have to work hard to convince you that I am not most people," he said pleasantly.

She gave him a small smile and pulled him back to her shoulder. "I know you're not, but thanks anyway."

Her heart was pounding against her chest and Thrawn spoke again. "This sort of... seizure already happened to you in the past." It was a statement, not a question.

She sighed. "Yes. There was a time when it happened a lot. I hope I can tell you about it someday." He brushed his lips on the wrinkled scar on her wrist and remained silent. They didn't make love that night, but neither of them got any sleep.

Ayesha resumed her work with Tashi. They scouted locations in town and she prepared the preliminary drawings for the Coruscant Public Transportation Authority. Tashi then set about building miniature models for the three monuments. "This is such a fantastic learning experience for me," Ayesha told Thrawn as they watched the Sullustan assemble bits of scrap metal, screws and bolts in a mock-up of one of their sculptures. "Tashi and I have such different styles. I could never come up with something like that. It's structured and unstructured at the same time." They scoured the junkyards for hours on end to find the discarded durasteel sheets and beams and the cogs, wires and dry power couplings they would need, and a few times, Thrawn found the door to the landing pad closed and had to wait outside until Ayesha returned from the day's errands.

She was still going out with friends on Centaxday and Taungsday every week, and more often than not, she looked a little tired but was positively glowing when Thrawn arrived on Zhellday. He asked her once if he would get to meet that particular group of her friends. "Tsk," she said, "there's a party girl in me that you don't need to know about."

She also often saw Matt Ruud. He was stationed in an orbital defence platform above Coruscant but dropped by for caf in the afternoons when he was on planet, and Thrawn would find him sitting on his stool in the workshop when he came back from the Palace. Matt was as kind as ever, and he was still mildly flirtatious with her, but he always snapped to attention when Thrawn arrived and left quickly afterwards, citing appointments with friends.

"Matt's finally been given a new commission," Ayesha told Thrawn one evening as she put away her tools. "Apparently it's a big thing, he'll have his own Star Destroyer and task force and all."

"So I have heard. It is quite a prestigious assignment, and highly unusual for someone so young."

There was something indefinable in his tone that made Ayesha look at him, but she couldn't decipher it and let it slide. "Matt's roughly my age," she said instead. "Are you implying that you wouldn't trust me with a Star Destroyer?" The way Thrawn struggled not to splutter cortyg brandy all over himself was all the answer she needed to know, and she rolled her eyes indignantly. "Anyway, I'll be spending the afternoon with him on Zhellday before he leaves, but it would be nice if you could finish early in the Palace. It's my birthday and I'd like to take you out to dinner. And just so you know, you shouldn't get me a present. Wookiees believe that birthday presents are bad luck."

He gave her a warm smile and came behind her to wrap his arms around her waist. "How old is my beautiful Ayoo'sha becoming?"

"Twenty-nine. Apparently not old enough to serve the Empire yet."

"An important milestone, however, in that it is only one year short of thirty," he murmured in an amused voice. She gave another indignant sigh but his hand was already crawling up her chest. "Perhaps important enough that we should start celebrating as early as today."

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><p>Matt carefully lowered his speeder on the small landing platform next to Thrawn's. "I told you I could do it," he said with a boyish grin as she unstrapped herself from her seat. "I'm an Ace pilot and I'll be piloting my Star Destroyer myself."<p>

"Are you sure it's a real Star Destroyer they're giving you?" Ayesha asked doubtfully. "The way you talk about it, I expect it to be like Tammy's."

He laughed and pulled her in a warm hug. "You take good care of yourself while I'm gone, little woman. I'll see you around." She climbed out and he lifted the speeder off the ground. "Don't forget to put me on the waiting list if you ever get tired of the blue boss," he called with a wink, and he manoeuvred into the skylane.

Thrawn was standing near the closed door, very stiff in his uniform, with his hands clasped behind his back. Ayesha bounced over and gave him a perfunctory kiss, then dug in her satchel for her key card. "I hope you haven't been waiting too long. I said early but I never expected you'd manage this early."

His eyes swept over her as they walked into the apartment. She was wearing a very short black skirt that barely covered her upper thighs and a matching top that was really just a shirtfront held in place by a single narrow strap around her neck and two slightly wider ones behind her back. She caught him staring and asked, "What?"

"Is this how you went out?" he said in his cool voice.

"Yes, we were sunbathing in the Imperial Gardens. The weather was so nice I couldn't resist," she answered happily. She slipped off her sandals, then looked back at him and saw that he was still staring at her. There was fire in his eyes. "What?" she asked again.

He inhaled deeply and sat on the conversation circle sofa. "Ayoo'sha, are you sure that it is appropriate for you to be walking around Coruscant – or any other planet for that matter – in this outfit?"

She gave him a puzzled look. "I was sunbathing, what did you expect, Jedi robes? Besides, I was wearing this top when we took Tammy to the zoo and I didn't hear you complain then, you kept tickling me here." She pointed at the small of her back.

"You were also wearing trousers when we went to the zoo," Thrawn said, visibly struggling to maintain his composure. "And you were with me."

The credit finally dropped. She came and stood in front of him, crooked a finger under his chin and drew his face upwards. "Let me take note of this colour in your eyes," she said a little smugly. "This is the colour of jealousy."

"It is not," he snapped. "However I cannot say that I am fond of the idea of you spending an afternoon half-naked in the company of Captain Ruud. Even less so when he wants to be on your, how did he call it, waiting list?" There was fury in his voice.

She gazed at him, stunned. "Matt was joking, Thrawn," she finally said as reasonably as she could. "He flirts with me the way he flirts with every other woman on Coruscant. You don't have to make a big deal out of it."

"Oh, but I think I do, Ayoo'sha. I am quite certain that, given half a chance, Captain Ruud would take you away from me."

She shot him a vicious look. "Okay, now I'm angry, so I'm going to make myself clear," she hissed. "One: Captain Ruud cannot take me away from you, for the very simple reason that you don't own me. You don't get to talk about me as if I were a piece of property that can be passed around. Two: don't tell me that you're not a jealous man because you just made it abundantly clear. You are. Now that I know it, I'll deal with it." She took a deep breath and her tone softened. "Three: it's my birthday and we're supposed to spend a nice evening out together, so for the love of the Giant Weaver of the Shadowlands, will you please knock it off?" The giant weaver had the anticipated effect on Thrawn's eyebrows, and she smiled as she cupped his face in her hands to kiss him. "You're being silly," she whispered in his ear. "There's no one like you in my life and you know it. Now let's get ready. I made a reservation in Old Zeltros and it's a perfect place for a date."

She let Thrawn use the 'fresher first, then took a shower, styled her hair, which had grown longer since the Ball, and emerged from the bedroom half an hour later in a tight-fitting, knee-length dress with wide shoulder straps and a plunging neckline. The pale yellow fabric matched her Qukuuf and enhanced her suntan. "Do you like it?" she asked Thrawn.

He gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You are lovely."

She pouted her lips in mock disappointment. "Lovely? Is that all?" She turned around. The back of the dress was indented in a deep V shape that reached all the way down to her tailbone, and was held together with a white, criss-crossing ribbon tied in a bow between her shoulder blades. "What about now, do you like it?" she asked teasingly. The flash of phosphorescence in his eyes when she spun to face him made her laugh. She tugged his hand and led him to the speeder. "Let's go. I want to dance tonight."

Old Zeltros was a popular restaurant with cosy sitting booths on three sides of the dance floor and a bar along the fourth. The layout was hedonistic and comfortable, as was typically expected of a Zeltron place, the edges of the partition panels were carved into statues of male and female Zeltrons and there was a holofrieze narrating the history of the planet running around the room above the booths. "I take it that your friends Lamtee and Dacco had a hand in designing this place," Thrawn said as they reached their table. "I can see their fingerprints all over the decor."

"Yup," Ayesha answered as he sat at her side. "That's why the holofrieze is flat. Before they redecorated here, it was three-dimensional, and I can tell you it was a bit overwhelming to have dinner literally under the moment of the First Battle of Zeltros when the invaders were overpowered by Zeltron pheromones."

Thrawn's lips twitched. "I also notice that the colour range is remarkably subdued," he added as his eyes took in the room again.

"That's because Lamtee and Dacco have good taste. The usual palette in a Zeltron restaurant is jarring enough to cut even my Wookiee appetite."

Thrawn's face finally broke into a real smile and she breathed a silent sigh of relief. The waiter brought them spiced wine, they placed their order and Ayesha was batting her eyelashes at Thrawn – "in Old Zeltros do like the Zeltrons," she said, making him chuckle – when a large party of young men in Navy uniforms led by Matt Ruud made their entrance and went for the bar. Matt and a lieutenant who knew Thrawn came by their table to say hello. Thrawn gave them a curt nod. Matt then turned to Ayesha and said with his easy manner, "You look absolutely beautiful, sweetheart. You'll let me take you out when I come back, won't you?" She smiled embarrassedly and he left to join his friends.

Thrawn's face was entirely expressionless and he hardly said another word during the evening. Ayesha chattered away throughout dinner to fill the uncomfortable silence, but no amount of cheerfulness on her behalf could break through the barriers he seemed to have erected around him. She finally put down her napkin and said, "I didn't know he'd be here tonight, you know. If I knew, I'd have picked a different place."

Thrawn said nothing and kept his eyes on his goblet of spiced wine. She sighed in exasperation. "Thrawn, you can't seriously be thinking that I'm cheating on you with Matt, of all people."

He turned his head to face her. "Are you?" he asked bluntly. "That man calls you sweetheart, talks about your waiting list and always leaves in a hurry when I find him in your workshop, so tell me, are you?"

She stared at him in disbelief. "I don't even know how to answer that," she whispered. "I thought it's only Zaarin who calls me a cheap slut, but it seems I was mistaken." Pain and hurt were swirling in her eyes. She let her gaze wander around the room. The restaurant was crowded now and people were dancing. She sighed and waved at the waiter. "Let's ask for the bill," she mumbled. "This really isn't what I had in mind for tonight."

She stared blankly at the table until Thrawn put his hand over hers. "I am sorry, Ayoo'sha," he said, now speaking in his even voice. "I had no right to talk to you the way I did, nor to imply the things I did." She looked up at him timidly. "There is something about you that makes men behave like idiots and it worries me. And before you give me that ironic smile of yours, yes, this would include me. I am not proud of myself."

She gave him a sad smile. "I've had enough bad experiences with Imperial men to know what you're talking about, Thrawn, but Matt isn't like that. And in any case, even if you don't trust him, you should trust me. I'm a better person than you think and I love you more than you know."

She didn't see his eyebrows shoot up in astonishment at her last statement because the bill came. She settled it with her credit chip – "don't even think of it," she told Thrawn when he went to protest, "on Kashyyyk it's whoever have their birthday who treat others to dinner, and if you try to change that, I may go all Wookiee on you," – and they flew back to her apartment in silence.

They had barely walked through the door when Thrawn sprang at her and pulled her in a bone-crushing embrace. His kiss was demanding and possessive and his hungry hands tugged at the fabric of her dress to bring the skirt up to her hips. Before she knew it, he had lifted her off the ground with his mouth buried in her neck, nibbling on her skin. She let go of a throaty laugh. "Slow down, Qubshi be-khadeeb, slow down. I had this dress made so that you could take it off me, give me at least the time to enjoy."

The phosphorescence of his eyes was so bright that it seemed to illuminate the dark room. "Who said anything about taking your dress off at this stage, Ayoo'sha? If you let me have my way, there will be plenty of time for that later." His tongue invaded her mouth again and, without breaking the kiss, he carried her to the bedroom.

When he finally rolled off her and she managed to catch her breath, she sat up in the bed and smoothed her dress. "You have no idea how much trouble you're in," she said with a perfectly straight face.

He gave her a worried look. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," she replied airily. "But if this is what happens when you're jealous, I'm going to make you jealous a lot more often." His arched eyebrow made her laugh, and she pulled him to his feet. "Get up. I remember saying something about dancing tonight, and seeing as we're still dressed, this is as good a time as ever."

She vanished to the 'fresher while he sorted himself out, and went to slip her panties back on before leaving the bedroom. He caught her wrist. "I do not think that will be necessary, Ayoo'sha. This dress of yours looks complicated enough as it is."

She laughed again, led him by the hand to the kitchen counter, poured two glasses of cortyg brandy and keyed the music player on. They drank and chatted and danced. He told her about festivals on Csilla and she told him about celebrations on Kashyyyk. His fingertips were grazing the small of her back, between the criss-crossing strap and the bottom of the V where the dress caught up with itself, and, as they moved to a languid tune from Alderaan, he slowly began to loosen the knot between her shoulders and to untangle the ribbon. He took his time, caressing every inch of her skin as his hands moved down her back again, as if brushing dust off one of her statues, and she whimpered at the softness of his touch. The dance ended, the dress finally crumpled to the floor, and she was standing in front of him, stark naked. He suddenly cupped her face in his hands. His eyes were glowing intensely as they locked onto hers.

"I have been given an Angel from the moons of Iego," he whispered. "I do not know what you see in me, and I believe I never will, but I am grateful." Before she could think of an answer, he pulled her into a kiss and took her back to bed.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25: Taungsday**

The Star Destroyer _Admonitor_ was in orbit above Coruscant and Thrawn was increasingly busy with his work. He was preparing a military campaign against an alien warlord in the Unknown Regions, and was constantly shuttling between the Palace, his ship and Ayesha's apartment. Their time together became limited. She knew better than to complain, but she bounced to the door a little faster when he turned up, she held him a little tighter when they hugged and the longing on her face was plain to see every time he left. She insisted that he come over at any time he was available, even if it had to be in the middle of the night. She opened the door for him, tousled and sleepy, and she pulled him to bed without saying a word, or lingered in the shower with him if his shuttle landed in the small hours of the morning.

She also took to attending official events with him. As a senior Navy officer, Thrawn could not avoid them as easily as she did, and he told her several times that she didn't have to accompany him since they annoyed her so much. She went and ordered a batch of formal outfits from Nazmat Koch's tailor and, when Thrawn expressed his surprise, she said with a wicked grin, "I need to look pretty for you if I'm coming along, Thrawn. Your reputation as an aesthete is at stake." She stayed at his side in receptions, as charming as ever, holding his arm as he stood straight-backed and formal in his uniform, and she took a perverse pleasure in dragging him along when one or another of the men she had dubbed vultures sought to whisk her away.

Thrawn introduced her to Voss Parck, who was the Captain of the _Admonitor_ and also happened to be the man who had found Thrawn on the jungle planet where he had been exiled. Captain Parck took an immediate liking to her and told her his version of his first encounter with Thrawn, which had her struggling hard not to roar with laughter in the middle of a very stiff function. "I hope to see you again when we return from this mission, Miss Eskari," Parck said as they exchanged goodbyes on the Palace landing platform. "I will tell you many more stories about the Senior Captain that I am willing to wager he hasn't told you himself. He is an exceptional man and officer and I am honoured to be serving under him."

She gave him her most radiant smile. "I know that he's exceptional, Captain, but it's nice to hear it from you. And I'm happy to know that he'll have such a good man and a good friend at his side when you both go off into the black. Thank you." She ignored the bemused expression on both men's faces and steered Thrawn away to his speeder.

She also saw Captain Piett at the event announcing the formation of Death Squadron. He had been transferred to Darth Vader's new flagship, the _Executor_, but this prestigious command seemed to have made him even more humble. He greeted her with a courteous bow and a kind smile and, when Thrawn was pulled aside by one of the Emperor's advisors for a private conversation, he offered his arm and kept her company until Thrawn came back. There were a few other times when she found herself alone in one of these functions, and she saw Grand Admiral Zaarin darting towards her, but every time Darth Vader somehow materialized to keep Zaarin at bay. She hadn't seen him since her visit to his palace and was not entirely comfortable the first time he appeared, but he simply nodded and stood towering above her, his mechanical breathing echoing in her ears until Thrawn came to fetch her and leave.

"You certainly have a way with people, Ayoo'sha," Thrawn told her once as they climbed in his speeder. "I never thought it possible to utter these words, but it seems that Lord Vader has a soft spot for you."

She smiled, then sighed. "I wish I could say the same about the Emperor. I always feel his eyes on me the moment I step into the room and I'm sure he means me some sort of harm."

Thrawn had given up arguing with her about the Emperor – she hated him with a passion since she had shared Vader's memories – but at these words, he took his attention off the skylane for a moment to look at her. "Why do you think His Majesty would want to harm you?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. He enjoys hurting people. Just like that, for kicks." She looked distinctly uneasy and remained silent and brooding until they reached her apartment

Thrawn pulled her in a fierce hug as soon as they stepped on her landing pad. "No one will harm you, Ayoo'sha, not as long as I live. This I promise you." She rested her head on his shoulder pensively until he lifted her face with his fingertips. "You know that you do not have to come to these functions, if being in His Majesty's presence is causing you such distress."

"My time with you is precious, Thrawn, I can't throw it away like that. Now do you intend to stay here while I think of another man, as ugly as he is, or will you deliver a reminder of one of the many reasons I'll miss you when you're gone?" There was that sparkle of mischief in her eyes and Thrawn obliged.

It was early on a Taungsday evening and Ayesha hadn't seen Thrawn in more than two weeks when he appeared on her doorstep. She leapt up the steps to greet him with a squeal of delight and a teasing kiss, and whispered in his ear, "It's a shame you're arriving now because I'm going out tonight, but we have time for a quickie." And she tugged his sleeve towards the hallway leading to the bedroom.

To her great surprise, he pulled back from her. "I believe that we should have a drink instead and talk." He led her by the hand to the kitchen counter where the cortyg brandy was waiting, poured two glasses and sat on one of the bar stools.

She looked at him questioningly while he scrutinized her face. "What?" she finally asked.

He took a deep breath. "I arrived on planet very early this morning, at four hundred hours to be precise. You were not here."

She gave a casual shrug. "It's my Centaxday pals. We played sabacc all night. It was quite a party."

"I was also on planet on Zhellday last week, again in the small hours of the morning," he continued. "You were not at home either."

This time her shrug was embarrassed. "Yeah. That crowd are a bit wild."

Thrawn's eyes locked onto hers. "One day earlier, exactly one week ago, I managed to drop by ahead of a morning meeting. It was approximately six hundred hours. You certainly had gone out early." She blushed intensely and bit her lip. There was a pregnant pause. "Is there something I should know, Ayoo'sha?" he asked softly.

She averted her gaze from his. He crooked a finger under her chin to bring her face back, but there was no anger in the gesture. "Haven't we already had this conversation?" she mumbled.

"No," he said firmly. "No, we have not. I am not implying anything of the sort, although you could hardly blame me for wondering about it when it is quite clear that this group of anonymous friends with whom you spend two nights a week are not the party animals that you make them to be." He caressed her cheek with his thumb. "You said I should trust you and you were right. You have my complete, my absolute trust. However, I have the distinct impression that there is something you have been hiding from me." He paused, then added, "Given the great lengths to which you went to hide it, it is something important."

She looked at him miserably. "Ayoo'sha..." he started.

She interrupted him. "Yes," she breathed. "Yes, it's true, there's something I didn't tell you. It matters a great deal to me and I'm asking you, please, please, to leave it alone." There was a flash of anger in his eyes. "Thrawn, please. Some things are best left untouched, and this is one of them."

There was a long silence. "Do I not also have your trust, Ayoo'sha?"

"Of course you do," she blurted. "It's just that..." She finally looked up. His usually impassive face was like an open book. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so, so sorry. This is something that you cannot, you should not know. It would put you in a very difficult position."

"Perhaps you should leave that to my judgment," he said coldly.

She sighed. "Thrawn, there are all sorts of things that you don't tell me about your work, and I never question you. How is this different?"

"It is entirely different. I am a Navy officer and you are an artist. You are not handling classified information."

She sighed again. "It may not be classified, but people's lives do depend on it. But then, there won't be any peace to be had until I tell you, right?" He was perfectly still as he stared at her. She hesitated. "If I take you with me tonight, will you promise three things?" He nodded. "Not any promise," she added. "I want the most powerful oath you believe in."

He nodded again, slowly. "I will give you a life-oath if that is your wish."

She took a deep breath. "Promise me that you'll never tell anyone, anywhere, about what you see tonight. Not ever."

He stood up, pulled her right hand to him with her palm facing upwards and laid his own palm over hers. "You have my word, now and forever, until the end of my days," he said solemnly.

"Promise me that, whatever happens, you'll follow my lead. You'll do as I say and you won't try to discuss or negotiate."

"You have my word."

"Promise me that, after we come back, you'll never try to interfere or dissuade me from continuing what I'm doing." Thrawn hesitated. "Promise me," she insisted.

The struggle was palpable in his voice as he spoke. "You have my word."

She whispered something in Old Kiffar, lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed it, then led him to the walk-in closet in her bedroom. "You need to change, you can't come in your uniform," she said as she began stripping off her clothes. "Something dark. That hoodie you wear when you go running would do nicely."

A few minutes later, they were both wearing plain jumpsuits and hooded jackets. She pulled a dagger-sized ryyk blade from the back of a drawer and slipped it inside her half-boot, then extracted two balaclavas, stuffed one in her pocket and handed the other to Thrawn. "Take this, I'll tell you when to put it on. Oh, and take your blaster too." She dug out a satchel that was buried behind her formal dresses and slung it across her chest. "Let's go."

"Where are we going?" Thrawn asked as they stepped into the turbolift.

"To the Underlevels."


	26. Chapter 26

Thank you for the fav, mezzieb1!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 26: Qumawarat<strong>

They got off the turbolift on a floor towards the middle of her skyscraper and took a public shuttle, then a maglev, then pulled up the hoods of their jackets and took another turbolift into the depths of Coruscant. They were now in the lower Mid-Levels of a majority-alien district and the atmosphere had become distinctly seedy. Ayesha headed for a deserted alley where a hole in the wall had been plugged with duracrete. She swung the plug, revealing nearly invisible hinges, and pushed Thrawn through the opening before closing it carefully again. They soon reached yet another, smaller turbolift tucked away between two buildings. It stank of the urine, sweat and excrement of a dozen different alien species. Ayesha extracted her balaclava from her pocket and pulled it over her face as they rode down. She gestured for Thrawn to do the same, and for good measure drew his hood over his head to hide the glow of his eyes in its folds. When the door slid open, they were in the bowels of the city. The stench of rotting garbage, toxic refuse and what may well have been putrescent corpses was suffocating, the alleys were narrow and dark with only the occasional light of a half-broken glow panel, and there were shadows lurking in every corner.

Ayesha took a cautious look around and led Thrawn through a complex system of stairs, ramps and passageways. She was moving swiftly and silently like a hunter in the wild, making use of every nook and cranny to remain unnoticed. She glanced a few times over her shoulder and at one point dragged him hastily in a side alley, standing with her back flat against the wall. A silhouette that was very human in shape and size passed by quickly, as if in a hurry. She peered around the corner to make sure that the man was gone, then led Thrawn to another passageway and pulled a bundle of monofilament from her satchel. "Are you okay with a bit of rappelling?" she whispered. "It's better if we go this way." He nodded in a curt, military gesture. She tied the monofilament to the railing in a complicated knot and dropped one level down. Thrawn followed and she gave the rope a few well-placed tugs until it fell in her hand. She put it away carefully, then started walking again, and, a few twists and turns later, they reached a door on a small platform. She punched a code in the key panel and it slid open.

A middle-aged man who appeared far more tired and troubled than his years was sitting at a desk, absorbed in his datapad. Behind him was a Twi'lek woman in an armchair. She had clearly been very beautiful, but her face was entirely blank, as if her personality had been wiped out. Ayesha took a step inside, pulling Thrawn behind her, and said, "Hi, Simon."

The man named Simon stood up. He was wearing the white blouse of a doctor. He pointed his chin at Thrawn. "Who's this?"

"He's with me," Ayesha said. The doctor gave her an inquisitive look. "He's with me," she repeated. "Is anyone else here?"

"Just Uumana and Dex."

Ayesha pulled her balaclava off her head and Thrawn went to do the same, but she held his hand. "Not you. We don't show faces or use names here, except Simon, Uumana, Old Dex and me because we already know each other." She looked at the Twi'lek woman and asked, "Still nothing?"

Simon's jaw tightened. "Nothing. Those drugs don't work for her."

Ayesha crouched in front of the Twi'lek and caressed her face and lekku, whispering gently as if hoping for a reaction. The Twi'lek didn't even bat an eyelid. Ayesha sighed, turned to the desk and picked up the datapad. "What do we have?"

"Not much," the doctor said. "A bunch of Twi'leks, a Mon Calamari, three Gamorreans and two Wookiees. We just got the new sedatives so everyone is asleep or at least very drowsy, except the Wookiees. Dex is working on them. I'm going to operate on the Rodian kid with the broken leg, so you two are on your own for the next hour."

Ayesha scanned the datapad. "It's okay, I think we can handle it. The Gamorreans don't even have chips. I'll see you later. With a bit of luck you can even get some sleep."

She took Thrawn's hand and led him through a corridor to a large room that looked like a hospital ward. There were rows of beds along the walls and, on every bed, there was an alien. A Besalisk was towering over a sleeping Twi'lek girl, his four massive arms handling a variety of medical and computer equipment. He gave Ayesha a wide, toothy grin. "Hi there, lil' one," he said in a cheerful bass voice. "I see you brought us company, that's a first."

She smiled back. "Just for tonight, Old Dex."

The Besalisk laughed. "I toldja not to call me old in front o' people."

"That'll happen when Hutts ride swoops," she said with a grin, "or when you stop calling me lil' one, which is the same." Her face suddenly became serious. "Old Dex, the guy who's been sneaking on us is still out there. And he was much closer today."

Dex frowned. "This ain't good. I sent my people after 'im but they always come up dry. But we'll get 'im in the end." He gestured towards the aliens in the beds. "You ready to get started? The Mon Cal's taken care of 'n' I got the Twi'leks under control, but I'm havin' trouble understandin' the Wookiees 'n' I ain't got no clue where they escaped from."

She nodded and went to a locker to drop her satchel and jacket and take a handheld scanner and a datapad similar to those Dex was holding. Thrawn followed her. "What is this place, Ayoo'sha?" he asked in a whisper. "Who are these people?"

She saw bewilderment in his eyes when she looked up at him. "They're runaway slaves. We bring them here so Simon can look after them and we deactivate their chip. Then another group takes them home."

His eyebrow arched under the balaclava. "Chip?"

"Some slavers embed an explosive chip in the sentients they capture to prevent them from escaping," she explained. "You should know that, the Empire does it. But we usually manage to slice the code before they activate. I can tell you more later, I need to work."

Thrawn watched silently as she took her equipment to the nearest Wookiee, an adult female by the looks of it. The bed next to hers was occupied by a pup perhaps nine or ten years old, but he was already taller and larger than a grown man. Both were in a pitiful state; their hide was sagging on their bones and their fur was dirty and matted, with tufts missing in places. Ayesha pulled a stool between the two beds and started speaking softly to the mother. The female Wookiee growled a long response and Ayesha said, "I understand, Qumawarat. We'll find a way." She picked her handheld scanner. "Do you know where your chip is?" Qumawarat hit a paw to her chest. "I'm going to look for it, okay?"

The Wookiee let out a long howl and waved her paw at the bed behind Ayesha, who nodded in assent. She asked a few more questions and spun on her stool to face the pup. "Hey, little guy," she said with a kind smile. "Don't be afraid. You're safe now and I'm going to take good care of you, and then I'll look after your Ata'." She caressed his head until the glitter of terror disappeared from his beady eyes, then started moving the scanner above him until it beeped. She took a small device from the bedside table, clasped it to a vertical bar hanging from the ceiling and activated it. A thin laser beam appeared. She focused it on a spot on the side of the Wookiee's chest, all the while looking at her datapad, and began reading the flow of symbols on the screen while Dex worked his way through the last of the sleeping Twi'leks.

"Old Dex, can you have a look?" she asked after a while. "This is Imperial code but I've never seen anything like it."

The Besalisk came and glanced at the datapad over her shoulder. "This one's gonna be a tough nut to crack," he grumbled. "Did she say where they escaped from?"

"They were being transferred from one of the orbital platforms when they managed to slip away. She doesn't know which one," Ayesha replied. She then stood on the tip of her toes to whisper in his ear, "It's a miracle they didn't activate yet. They were running for hours before our guys found them. And whoever came up with this is a real son of a Sith. The chip is embedded under his ribs."

Dex growled something in his mother tongue that Ayesha and Thrawn didn't understand but it definitely sounded very rude. "I s'pose I better get started on the mother then. We'll figure it out, lil' one, dontcha worry."

He repeated the same procedure as Ayesha with the female Wookiee, joking with her in his deep voice to reassure her, and he and Ayesha worked in silence on their datapads for a long while. Ayesha was becoming a little nervous as she keyed commands to no avail, until her datapad suddenly froze. "I got it," she blurted, "I think I got it." She stared at the screen for a few seconds with a cautious smile, but the flow of symbols resumed and her shoulders sagged. "Where's that slicer when you need him?" she muttered under her breath. "This is like cupping water, the code's changing all the time and he's not even around."

"The man just spent three days in 'ere with us," Dex chided. "Three days with 'is mask on. Give 'im a break." A wailing alarm interrupted him and red lights started flashing above both Wookiees. "They activated. Blast room, now!"

Ayesha sprang to her feet and they wheeled the two beds hurriedly down a corridor to a room with thick walls. There was a waist-high, hollow duracrete cube in a corner, and a blast-proof transparisteel panel on one side, behind which sophisticated computers were blinking. She re-set the laser beams over the Wookiees' chests while Dex left and reappeared behind the control room window. "How long do we have?" she called.

"Twenty minutes, give or take," Dex's voice came over the intercom. "I need to calibrate." He turned his gaze to the monitors and started busying himself with the keyboards.

Ayesha looked at Thrawn, her face contorted in despair. "Do you know how to slice this code?"

"I wish I did, Ayoo'sha," he breathed. "I truly wish I did."

She sighed, then straightened her posture as if making up her mind. "I'll go in manually then."

"Ayesha, you can't do that," Dex barked, his eyes still on the computers. "The sedatives we got don't work on Wookiees."

She turned to Thrawn. "Did you bring your blaster?" He nodded. "Stun them. Three shots to the head should do." He hesitated. "Stun them," she ordered again. "You promised."

Thrawn pulled his blaster from the back of his belt, checked the setting and shot the pup three times. He then turned to the female. She let out a series of angry grunts and waved at her son. He looked at Ayesha questioningly. "Forget it," she said. "She wants to know that her son is safe. I'll take care of her afterwards. Help me with this instead."

She pulled a set of light, flexible armour from a locker and slipped it on with quick, practiced moves. Thrawn was clasping the helmet in place when Dex looked up. "There ain't time, lil' one," he growled over the comm. "Get outta there."

She swiftly pushed Thrawn out of the room and slammed her hand on the blast door lever before turning to the transparisteel panel. "I can do this, Old Dex. You know I can. I'm not losing another one." Thrawn had found his way to the control room and appeared at Dex's side. "You keep an eye on the monitors for any surges and Qubshi be-khadeeb will tell me the time."

Dex punched a few keys on the console and sighed. "Crazy kid locked the door from the inside," he grumbled. "All we can do now is sit 'n' wait." He flipped a switch and a countdown timer appeared, reading nine minutes. "You watch this," he told Thrawn. "You give 'er the time every minute. Got it?"

Thrawn watched as Ayesha brought a tray of surgical tools to a table near the pup and shaved the fur off his ribcage before opening him up. She pulled the skin apart and started exploring the underside of his ribs with cautious fingers. The deafening silence was broken only by Thrawn's voice as he announced the minutes ticking by. There were less than three minutes left now and a string of curses was flowing through her lips when Simon barged into the control room. "What in the blue blazes do you think you're doing?" he thundered. "I go to fix the Rodian's leg and you let her in there?"

The Besalisk held his four hands palms upwards in a gesture of surrender. "You know the kid. Crazy 'n' stubborn like 'er uncle."

The doctor shot him a furious look. "Two minutes," Thrawn said.

Simon banged on the transparisteel window. "Ayesha, listen to me. You have to come out now."

"Shut up," she snapped without raising her head. "Just shut up. I can do this." Her small hands were moving frantically now inside the Wookiee pup's chest.

Simon gazed at her for a while and turned to Thrawn. "You! Say something!"

Thrawn didn't even look at him, his eyes glowing intensely as he stared at Ayesha. His jaw was trembling. "One minute," he called tightly, then breathed, in a barely audible whisper, "Ayoo'sha, please..."

She suddenly shouted in triumph and inserted surgical tweezers under the Wookiee's rib, extracting a tiny chip. "I got it," she said. "I got it!" She dumped the chip inside the duracrete cube.

"Thirty seconds."

Ayesha turned to the Wookiee mother. "I'm so sorry," she said, but Qumawarat smiled and gave her a grateful growl.

"Fifteen seconds."

Qumawarat curled up on her side after a last glance at her son. Ayesha lay down on the pup's open chest, wrapping herself protectively around him with arms and legs, and the room exploded in a pandemonium of gore, one chip scorching the duracrete cube and the other tearing the Wookiee mother apart.

There was a long silence. "Open the door now, Ayesha," Simon finally said. "Open the door. I'll take it from here."

She staggered to her feet and the two men and the Besalisk rushed in. Simon started busying himself with the Wookiee pup immediately while Dex set about cleaning the room after handing Thrawn a pair of heavy-duty gloves. He helped Ayesha out of the bloodstained armour without saying a word. They then followed Simon back to the corridor as he wheeled the bed to a small room, and waited outside while the doctor hooked his patient to a series of monitors.

Dex had joined them by the time Simon came out. "Will he be alright?" Ayesha asked anxiously.

The doctor sighed. "I can't tell yet. He's very weak and he lost a lot of blood. I don't have painkillers that'll work on him and our bacta capsule is way too small. We'd need a full-size tank for him. But you did a good job, all things considered." He gestured towards the room. "The stun blast is wearing off and he'll be awake any time now. You should go in, at least you understand what he says. Be warned, he'll be in terrible pain."

Ayesha sat at the Wookiee's side and waited in silence. A few minutes later, the pup stirred. "Hey, little guy, welcome back," she said softly, stroking his head. "How are you feeling?" The Wookiee grunted in pain. "I know, it hurts. But we're going to take care of you and you'll be okay." The Wookiee suddenly looked around and tried to sit up. She pushed him back gently and he growled a question. "I'm sorry. There wasn't enough time for your Ata'. I'm so, so sorry," she repeated as the pup let out a howl of bereavement. "But we'll make sure you're okay, and then we'll take you back to Kashyyyk, and you can take your Trials and hunt and play in the trees. Do you remember the trees?" Tears rolled down her cheeks as she continued whispering in the pup's ear while the two men and the Besalisk looked on from the hallway.

Dex turned to Thrawn. "You're 'er man," he said without preamble. Thrawn looked at him questioningly, tilting his head slightly to the side. "She changed, 'bout a year 'n' a half ago. Became happier. I knew there's a man involved. I known 'er since she was a tiny lil' thing like this" – he held the hand of his lower arm to the height of his hip – "'n' I never saw 'er shine that way before."

"You were the owner of the diner," Thrawn said.

"She toldja that, didn't she? Crazy Quin brought 'er over, she was in a right state, I can tellya. Ate like there was no tomorrow."

Simon interrupted him to give Thrawn an angry look. "Can't you stop her from pulling these stunts?"

Thrawn sighed as if he were carrying a massive weight on his shoulders. "She made me swear a life-oath. To keep the secret, to obey her instructions tonight and not to interfere in the future."

Dex looked at him for a long moment. "She gotcha cornered real good." There was a hint of pride in his voice. "Dontcha worry, though," he added reassuringly. "It ain't like this every day. It's been months since it last happened, but it was a Wookiee again 'n' that kinda gets 'er in a tizzy."

Simon shrugged in disgust. "Take her home. The Wookiee pup needs to rest, and she won't be doing anything else tonight. I'd normally force her in a bed here, but you can manage that at least."


End file.
